


Verbatim

by br0jangles



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: (Mild) Sub Drop, Accidental Identity Reveal, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, Frotting, Humiliation, Identity Porn, Loosely Canon Compliant, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Depictions of Violence (non-sexual), Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Secret Identity, Semi-Public Sex, Service Top Wade Wilson, Sex Cam Worker Peter Parker, Sex Toys, Sex Work, Sexting, Sexual Experimentation, Sugar Daddy Wade Wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23484106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br0jangles/pseuds/br0jangles
Summary: What’s the worst that could happen, Peter? Post the fucking pictures. Get paid. Or don’t, and get a real job. It can only go one of two ways.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

**Bobbi** : Well, what are you going to do? You got your bitching out of the way, now it’s time to make a plan.

**Peter** : Why do you have to be so cold?  
**Peter** : I’m going to bitch about Jameson not paying me enough until I die and you can’t stop me.  
**Peter** : But for the record, I already have a plan.

**Bobbi** : Are you going to tell me what it is?

**Peter** : Uhhhhhhh, maybe.  
**Peter** : I don’t really want to.

**Bobbi** : I won’t make fun of you for working in fast food, or whatever it is. You know I’m always proud of you for doing your best.

**Peter** : Can I just try it first and see if it works out before I tell you? It’s embarrassing.

**Bobbi** : Fine. I’ve got to go, Peter. Good luck with the new job.

**Peter** : Later mbird.

Peter tosses his phone aside with a dramatic sigh. He’s pretty sure he won’t be successful with this, but what else is he supposed to do when Jameson won’t pay him and Spiderman takes up all his free time?

He’s done his research. At least, as much of it as he can. The internet can be pretty vague when it comes to things like this. Supposedly “everyone is doing it,” but it’s banned on most platforms.

All he can do at this point is try. What does he honestly have to lose?

He takes a long shower, the water much hotter than reasonably necessary. It leaves his skin pink and warm. He does his hair, sort of, and rolls on some chapstick. It’s the most he knows how to do.

He spends the next several hours getting to know his camera more intimately.

Now, Peter is a photographer. He knows what he’s doing. He (used to) get paid a lot of money for his pictures (and hopefully he will again very soon.) But picking which ones he wants to use for this is… difficult. He’s not sure which parts of himself he wants to share and what he should keep for himself.

He’s spent a lot of time thinking of a new name for himself, and he’s already got it all planned out. He’s going to start with a few Reddit posts. Make a private Twitter account. Then a new Snapchat. That should be enough to get his feet in the water.

There’s no way he’s jumping right into video, he’s already nervous enough as it is. The embarrassing truth is, he barely knows how to touch himself properly. He has never had that much time for himself, so when the mood strikes him, it’s over pretty quickly. Spiderman has always been more important than love or sex.

It didn’t exactly end well when he tried love, anyway.

He bites his lip and taps his fingers against his laptop without purpose. Is this really a good idea?

What’s the worst that could happen, Peter? Post the fucking pictures. Get paid. Or don’t, and get a real job. It can only go one of two ways.

He makes his posts and spends the next ten minutes furiously reloading the pages with heart-stopping suspense. He’s pumped full of adrenaline, much more…  _ excited _ than he thought he would be. The idea alone that someone might see his post and decide to buy his content sits like a weight in his stomach.

He snaps his laptop shut and looks at his watch. It’s past sunset. Deadpool is probably waiting for him.

He pulls on his spidey suit and swings out his window. He definitely needs an excuse to let out some of this nervous energy. He could take down an army right now.

He finds Deadpool in the usual spot, legs hanging precariously off the edge of the roof. He climbs through the bars and takes a seat beside him, with a short, “Hey.”

“Where have you been all day?” Wade asks. He offers Peter a taco from his comically large bag of them. “You’ve missed… a whole lot of nothing.”

“I was around…” Peter says. He takes the taco just to keep his hands busy. He already wants to check his phone. “Any leads come through on Tarion?”

Wade shrugs. “Got a cold tip about a warehouse that turned out to be nothing.”

“You went without me?” Peter asks, pout clearly visible and exaggerated where his mask is pulled up.

“You weren’t around. At least, not around me. You could finally give me your number, Webs, and I’d be able to let you in on the scoop twenty-four seven.”

Peter considers this, but he’d do anything not to have his phone in his hands right now. What if he actually had a notification and Wade saw it? Not happening. He takes another taco and unwraps it slowly. “Maybe later. Tell me more about the tip.”

“I told you, it was cold. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Maybe you missed something,” Peter insists.

Wade laughs and gives Peter a hard pat on the shoulder. “Baby boy, you don’t make any money on mistakes. Are you suggesting I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“You’re getting paid for this?” Peter asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Not for this job, no. I’m only doing it for you.” Wade stands up and bends backward, stretching out his back. “Let’s get out of here, I’m bored. We can check it out again if you don’t believe me.”

Peter feels a pang of guilt for doubting Deadpool. They’ve been partners for a while now, he should trust him, right? Well, maybe. There’s still a lot Peter doesn’t know about him.

Then again, Peter knows Wade’s full name and home address. Wade doesn’t even have Peter’s phone number. Who’s the guarded one again?

They leave the tacos and Peter webs them back down to the street. 

Wade doesn’t like swinging, for whatever reason, so they always walk. Even the ride down has Wade whining like a baby.

But Peter hates walking. There are cops on the ground. How is Deadpool more okay with cops than with Spiderman? There’s no cops in the sky.

Wade is twice Peter’s size, anyway, so he throws off the balance when they swing around. It’s fine.

The hours pass without any real event. They wander around without a real purpose. Wade talks too much. He also buys them some more food because he never stops eating. They help a lost dog find its way home.

The two of them end up back on the roof, watching the sun rise. It’s traditional. It’s where they always meet up at night and typically where they say goodbye in the morning. The sunlight peeks over the tops of buildings, warm and pink, and their hands sit an inch apart between them.

The air is calm, thick with humidity and heavy enough to even shut Wade up. It’s comfortable.

Eventually, Peter says, “I should go home… I’ve got a lot on my plate today.”

“Want me to walk you?” Wade asks. He doesn’t stand up though, Peter always says no.

“No thanks. See you tonight, Wade.”

“Get some rest, Webs.” 

When Peter gets home, he feels better. Something about Wade’s extreme chaotic energy makes his own problems seem not so bad. Something in the back of his mind is still nervous, but mostly he’s trying to stay positive. He makes the executive decision to wait until the morning to check online. Well, his morning. After he sleeps. The afternoon. Whatever.

.

.

.

He wakes up to several messages asking to see his feet. Well, he can do that. Maybe it’s not something he  _ wants _ to do, but it’s easier than trying to act like he knows how to be sexy.

His heart skips a beat when the first deposit hits his account. It works. He actually got paid. And if the messages are anything to go by, he’s going to keep getting paid. He had thought that a $10 per month subscription fee to his snapchat was a lot, but apparently it’s not.

Maybe the feet guys will pay even more. They seem more than willing.

He spends the rest of his day coming up with new content, responding to messages, posting new ads. He comes up with a real plan instead of something half-assed that he hopes works out.

He even considers joining one of the livestream sites, but he decides that Snapchat is plenty for now. He doesn’t want the pressure of people watching him live, it makes his chest tight with anxiety to even think about it.

Before he knows it, the sun is setting again, and it’s time to head out. He almost doesn’t want to leave. What if someone messages him and he can’t answer and he misses a sale? It’s not like business is booming yet, he’s only had a few people respond, but still.

He shakes it out of his system and pushes away from his desk. Spiderman can’t be distracted by this while he’s working. He can’t think about this while he’s out, he has to leave it alone. One thing at a time.

He suits up and makes his way across town to meet Wade.

It’s another boring night. They take a walk through the park, buy some more food. Wade is his usual overly-flirtatious self.

Technically, they’re on a huge case right now, but they’ve hit a stone wall. With no new information coming in, there’s nothing they can do. They’ve turned the entire state of New York upside down, and found nothing. Unfortunately, for now, it’s a waiting game.

Wade blows Peter a kiss as they part ways for the night and Peter rolls his eyes. Part of him wishes he could live like Wade. Completely care-free. Only taking jobs for money, and not because it’s the right thing to do.

He can’t worry about what Wade does anymore. He’s been better since they started working together, and he needs to trust him. What’s the worst he could be getting up to without Peter hearing about it?

Peter goes to bed with the intent to finally relax a little.


	2. Chapter 2

He gives himself the morning off. He sleeps in late and takes his time rolling out of bed. He makes himself some toast and eggs and sits around for a while before finally checking his computer.

He’s got a string of messages waiting for him, from earlier in the morning.

**DoubleTap** : Hey.  
**DoubleTap** : I mean, that was stupid.  
**DoubleTap** : You’re super hot.  
**DoubleTap** : Fuck.  
**DoubleTap** : I mean,  
**DoubleTap** : I don’t know how to ask but I want to buy your content.  
**DoubleTap** : How do I do that?

Peter taps his fingers anxiously on his keyboard before deciding to reply. It still feels weird to tell people he wants money for this.

**PhotoRealistic** : Hey, sorry I’m late!  
**PhotoRealistic** : If you’re still interested, you can subscribe to my Snapchat @PhotoRealistic  
**PhotoRealistic** : It’s $10 a month and you can pay right through the app.

**DoubleTap** : It’s only $10?

Peter breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe this guy has money to burn.

**PhotoRealistic** : I wouldn’t complain if you chose to tip me more. ;)  
**PhotoRealistic** : But yes, that’s all.  
**PhotoRealistic** : You’ll have access to daily posts, and potentially custom content.

**DoubleTap** : Well, fuck me. Sign me up.  
**DoubleTap** : Not literally, I mean,  
**DoubleTap** : Figure of speech.

It’s another relief to see DT being kind of awkward about it. Maybe it’s both of their first times. It’s easier for Peter to pretend like he knows what he’s doing when the buyer is obviously inexperienced.

A notification pops up on his phone, a friend request on Snapchat.

**DoubleTap** : Alright, let me know when to send the money.

Peter spends several minutes wondering if this is the right thing to do before opening the app. He needs to let go of the idea that this job is inherently bad, and just do it. He’s providing a service, not stealing. He accepts the friend request and abandons Reddit.

**PhotoRealistic** :   
Hey again, DT. <3  
Whenever you’re ready.

Fifteen dollars comes through immediately. Peter’s heart races at the small amount of money, feeling like this could possibly change everything.

He pulls his computer chair closer to the window, to get the light to hit his skin just right. He leans back in his chair, in just his underwear, and takes an artsy photo. His face still isn’t in it. It hasn’t been in any of them.

He captions it with a “Thank you!” and sends it off.

**DoubleTap** :   
Wow, already worth it.  
You’re stunning.

Peter can’t help a smile. As weird as it may be, it’s satisfying to be validated like this.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you. <3  
Is there something you want me to call you? I’m Peter.

It might be risky using his real name, but honestly, how many Peters are there in the world? He’ll get caught being Spiderman before he gets caught being Peter.

**DoubleTap** :  
You can call me Thomas.

That’s definitely the name of a man with money.

**DoubleTap** :  
Peter, thank you for bearing with me. I don’t do this a lot, so if I’m being too forward, I’m sorry.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Not at all! You have been very nice so far. Thank you for supporting me!

**DoubleTap** :  
Tell me about your custom content.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Well, that’s more like something we talk about on a personal level. We can talk about something you’d like to see from me, and I can let you know if I’m comfortable doing it and for how much.  
Not to also be forward… but I have a few wish lists, too! If you send me something off my wish list, I’ll send you exclusive content.

**DoubleTap** :  
Wish lists?

A moment goes by while Peter collects a few links, and then he sends them through.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Here! It takes care of everything for you after you pick an item.

Another few silent moments go by while DT presumably goes through Peter’s lists.

**DoubleTap** :  
I’m not complaining, but is the only thing you want sex toys? There’s nothing else?

Peter is taken aback for a second. He didn’t think anyone would want to buy him anything other than sex toys. That’s what this business is, isn’t it?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You’re right, I want other things. I need other things, if I’m being honest.  
But can I keep being honest for a second?

Peter bites his lip, butterflies filling his stomach with a sudden rush. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to feel like this, or if he should be more detached. He thought he would have to fake it a lot, but, maybe, he might like this a lot more than he thought he would. He hasn’t even said it yet, and he’s excited by it.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I might be an anal virgin. I’ve never tried it before, and I want to.  
What better way to try it than with every kind of toy?

**DoubleTap** :  
Oh, sweet baby boy.  
I would fuck you so gently.  
So soft.  
Show you how good it can be.  
Fuck.  
Sorry.  
You got to me.   
I’ve been trying to keep my cool, but you can’t just say shit like that.  
I’ll lose it.

Peter’s heart  _ races _ . He wasn’t expecting that type of reaction, but he sure as hell got it. Is this what it’s going to be like?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Don’t be sorry, I’ll let you know if you cross a line.

He drops down on his bed and takes his phone to start a snap. He follows his hand down his stomach with his camera and hooks a few fingers into his underwear. Jesus, he’s getting  _ hard _ from this. From being told he’s fuckable. From showing off. From watching himself on the screen on his phone. From... nothing.

He sends the video, and then:

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Tell me more about how you would fuck me.

**DoubleTap** :  
Holy shit.  
Show me your ass, baby boy.

Peter hesitates for half a second-- because  _ Wade _ calls him baby boy-- and Thomas has said it twice now. It’s common, though, right? And he shouldn’t be thinking about Wade right now.

But Wade always talks about how nice his ass is, too, so he’s pretty confident in the next video he takes. He rolls his hips back and pans down his thighs to his still-clothed ass.

He immediately starts another video where he slowly pulls the fabric down, until it pops over the perfect round of his cheeks.

**DoubleTap** :  
You are fucking beautiful.  
Gorgeous.  
I would definitely start by eating you out.  
Make you crush my head between your thick thighs while I show you what this tongue can do.

A wave rolls up Peter’s spine that makes him dizzy. He can’t even imagine what that would be like, but his body seems to like the sound of it. He’s warm all over and he has the unyielding urge to touch himself.

He wraps his fingers around the base of his hard (and now leaking, god) cock, and takes a photo to show Thomas. He’s too turned on to be embarrassed anymore. He wants to see where this can go.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
This is what you’re doing to me.  
Keep going.

**DoubleTap** :  
When you’re nice and loosened up for me, I would move on to kiss your thighs, and those picture perfect abs.  
I’d start with just one finger, working up inside you, until I found your sweet spot.  
I’d rub and tease you until you cried my name before I gave you another finger.

Peter’s breath stutters in his chest. He’s panting now, harder than he’s ever been on his own. He slows his stroking to consider moving his fingers further down. He wasn’t lying when he said he was an anal virgin. He’s never touched himself there before.

He spreads precum on his fingers, and his hand tremors slightly as he moves it down. He does his best to take a steady video as he strokes a wet finger over his hole. He holds his breath as he pushes it in to the first knuckle. He feels like he’s on fire.

He sends the video.

**DoubleTap** :  
Fuck, baby boy, is this your first?  
I’m not going to make it.  
I’m so hard for you.  
I wish I could share it with you.  
I’d finger you until you were a complete mess on the sheets.  
Wet.  
Leaking everywhere.  
Shaking.  
And then I’d finally give you my cock.  
I’d fuck you so slow and so sweet that you would cry.  
And you’d beg for me to do it again.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I want that.  
God, I want that.

Peter  _ is _ shaking. He’s worked in two fingers by now and he can’t take it anymore. He’s going to cum any second now.

He holds his phone above his chest to take one last video. His hand disappears between his legs, fingers out of sight. His cock, untouched, strained and pink, twitches with the last efforts of holding on. With a twitch of his fingers, he finally cums, thick and hard all over his own stomach, all for Thomas to see.

The video lingers, Peter’s labored breathing clearly audible for the last few seconds, before it cuts off.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I hope that was as good for you as it was for me…  
Thanks, Thomas, now I need to take a shower.  
I have work soon, and I don’t want to go anymore.

**DoubleTap** :  
Haha, sorry, sweetheart.  
I loved every second, if that helps.  
You’re so sexy, I could die.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I hope we can do it again sometime.

**DoubleTap** :  
Don’t worry, you can’t get rid of me that easily.

Peter rolls on his side with a quiet smile on his face. He’s tired, but he feels good, almost like he’s glowing. Who knew this would make him feel like this.

His eyes widen when $100 slides through the messages. It’s only now that he realizes they never discussed a price, or the content at all. He just…  _ gave _ it to Thomas.

At least Thomas is honest.

**DoubleTap** :  
Work on your wish lists for me.  
I’ll talk to you soon.  
Thank you, Peter. <3

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I will!  
Thank you, Thomas!

Peter shoots straight up in bed and stares at the $100 deposit. Maybe he hit the jackpot. A man with money that also makes Peter feel good? What could be better than that?

He had read about sugar daddies in his research, but he didn’t think it would be this easy to find one. Maybe he can sweet talk the guy into paying his bills for him.

No, no, Peter is getting ahead of himself. They had one good session, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything yet.

He rolls out of bed, a hot sticky mess, and goes to take a shower. He lets the hot water roll over his skin, and usually… this is the only thing that can relax him. It’s the only thing that can unwind his tired muscles after a long day. But this time, he’s already relaxed. Maybe what they say about orgasms being healing is true.

When he shuts off the water, he makes sure to get a good snap of himself wet, towel loosely around his waist, and posts it to his story. He had almost forgotten about his other subscribers.

He finishes his now cold breakfast and puts on his spidey suit.

He swings over New York to their usual rooftop. Wade is already waiting for him. Wade is  _ always _ already waiting for him, no matter how early he gets there.

“Morning, Wade,” he says, settling in beside Wade with a content sigh. It’s not morning, but it might as well be for them.

“Morning, Webs,” Wade says, but he sounds suspicious. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks. He turns to raise an eyebrow at his friend.

“I don’t know. You feel different.” Wade makes vague motions at Peter with his hands. “And you’re basically sitting in my lap. Who pulled the stick out of your ass?”

“Oh, uh…” Peter hadn’t even noticed how close he was sitting. He shifts a little, trying not to worry about the fact that Wade can read him so easily. Nothing stays a secret from him for very long. Why is Peter so obvious?? “I got a really good night’s sleep? I guess.”

“I won’t complain,” Wade says. He hangs an arm around Peter’s shoulders and makes a grand gesture at the city before them. “Ready for another boring night?”

“Maybe,” Peter says, but it comes out sounding small and distracted. His eyes are wide behind his mask and his skin is crawling under his suit. He must still be sensitive from earlier, because Wade’s arm around him feels different today. He wants to lean into the physical contact, wants more of it. 

_ More _ ? Since when does Peter want Wade to touch him  _ more _ ?

Peter peels himself out from under Wade and staggers a few feet away. He tries to shake the feeling off, but he can’t help looking at Wade’s arms with a need to be held. They look much larger and more inviting than they usually do. “Let’s, uh, check out the north side tonight. We haven’t been there in a while, maybe there’s something new.”

“Sure,” Wade agrees.

“Can we swing?” Peter asks, and he’s not sure what’s come over him, because he’s used to walking by now. He’s itching for  _ something _ though.

Wade gives him a look like he really doesn’t want to say yes. But he  _ always _ says yes to Spiderman, so he eventually gives a nod. “I guess. Why?”

“It’s faster,” Peter says, but it’s only an excuse. When Wade wraps his arms around Peter’s waist, he’s filled with a type of comfort he never knew he needed in his life. And it’s stupid that it’s coming from Wade, who touches him all the time anyway. Maybe Peter wasn’t ready to feel it until now.

When they jump, Wade clings to him even tighter. Peter keeps a reassuring arm around him as they fly through the air. The press of their bodies together makes Peter warm in a way he never knew it could, and it’s all over far too quickly. They land behind a pizza shop, and Wade falls dramatically to the ground.

“Sweet earth, I’m never leaving you again,” Wade cries. He pets and kisses the dirty pavement, and Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“It’s not that bad, you big baby.”

“Says the one with the indestructible body.”

“Wade, you’re literally immortal.” Peter holds a hand out to help Wade off the ground and then watches him dust himself off. “Want to do some snooping in the bowling alley? There’s always something going on in there.”

“Only if you buy me a beer,” Wade says, his wide grin obvious under his mask.

Peter scoffs and crosses his arms. “You’re the one getting paid to fight crime. You should be the one buying  _ me _ a drink.”

“Say no more, baby boy. Follow me.”

Wade leads Peter down several back alleys, in what Peter is pretty sure is the opposite direction of the bowling alley, until they reach a hole-in-the-wall excuse for a door. The sign outside is so rusted up, Peter can’t even make out what it says. Wade opens the door, and dread washes over Peter as he reluctantly follows.

“Where are we going, Wade?” Peter asks. His spider-senses are going off in every single direction. Both hands grip Wade’s bicep out of an instinct to both stick together and protect his friend.

“Relax, Webs, we’re safe here. My buddy owns this place.”

“It doesn’t feel safe,” Peter insists. His entire body is tense with anxiety.

“Well, it might be full of villains.” Wade shrugs, and Peter is about to argue with him, when Wade opens the door at the bottom of the stairs.

Noise floods Peter’s ears, and the ringing in his whole body peaks in the middle of the room. He sticks close to Wade and whispers, “I hate everything about this.”

“Relax,” Wade says again. He prys Peter’s hands off his arm and takes one in his own hand with a squeeze. “We’ll just grab a few drinks. Maybe some information. Then we’ll scram.”

Peter doesn’t even complain about the hand holding. Everything good that happened today is completely forgotten as anxiety overwhelms him. He had no idea a place like this was so close to where he lives.

People give them dirty looks as they take a seat at the bar. Peter has a bad feeling that he’s put most of these people in jail, and they’re not happy about it.

Wade slings an arm around his shoulder again, and some of the static in his head subsides. “Two Coronas, please,” Wade says. “And will you fetch the owner for me?”

The bartender rolls his eyes, and a few minutes later a small angry man takes his place. “Who the fuck let you in here?” the angry man asks.

“Aw, I missed you, too!” Wade says, more cheerful than ever. “How are you, Weasel? My friend and I have a few questions for you.”

“Suck my dick, Wilson,” Weasel says. He turns his back to grab the beers, then waits expectantly before setting them down.

Wade reaches for his wallet with his free hand and slides a $100 on the counter.

Peter eyes the money with mixed feelings. Too many thoughts roll through his head.

_ A hundred dollars _ .

Weasel hands over the drinks and swipes the money. With a sour look, he asks, “What do you want to know?”

“We’re still trying to track down Tarion. Anything new come up?” Wade takes the open bottles and hands one to Peter.

Peter takes an uneasy sip.

Weasel holds out a hand.

Wade hands over another hundred.

“Nothing much,” Weasel says. “I hear he’s hiring new guys. He’s having auditions.”

“Where?” Wade asks.

Weasel holds out his hand again.

Peter isn’t really listening. He can feel eyes on him and every fiber of his being is kicking into fight or flight.

Wade hands over several more bills and Weasel finally talks. “Auto shop on 108th. It’s a front for recruits.”

“Was that so hard, best friend?” Wade gives his best shit eating grin and downs his whole beer.

Weasel flips them both off. He tells his bartender, “Give them whatever they want, and make sure they leave before 2.”

“What happens at 2?” Wade asks.

“You eat my ass at 2, mind your own fucking business.”

“Love you, too!” Wade calls, as his ‘friend’ walks away. He squeezes the arm around Peter’s shoulders and touches their heads together. “Will you loosen up? You’re so tense.” He rubs at Peter’s shoulder but Peter still doesn’t budge.

“Wade, get me out of here, or I’m going to kill you myself. I can’t  _ believe _ you thought this was a good idea.”

“Right, okay.” Wade lets Peter go, finally taking the hint. It leaves Peter feeling even more open and vulnerable than before. “Bar keep. A box of these to go, please,” he says, holding up his empty bottle.

The bartender scowls at him, but Weasel said ‘whatever they want’ so he gets it anyway. Eventually, Wade thanks the man and pulls Peter away from the bar.

The walk is a blur, and when they’re finally outside, Peter takes the biggest breath of his life. A huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he’s only had a sip of beer, but he feels like he’s going to lose his mind.

Wade watches him collect himself for a few minutes before interrupting. “Park?” he asks. He holds up the case of beers apologetically, and Peter just nods.

“We’re swinging again because I hate you and I want you to suffer.”

“Fair.”

Peter grabs Wade before they can make the moment worse and pulls them straight up into the air. He takes the long way, letting out most of the stress from the bar before they get there.

When they finally land on a park bench, Peter lets out a long sigh and grabs one of the beers. He’s had quite a day, and he needs to unwind at this point, frankly.

He doesn’t notice Wade watching him until his bottle is almost gone. “What?” he asks.

“Just making sure you’re okay,” Wade says, giving Peter a look. “I didn’t think it would be that bad, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. You got us the information we needed, right?” Peter finishes his bottle and puts it neatly back in the box, because littering is for criminals.

Wade nods and looks away from Peter. “We should go to the auditions. It might be our big chance.”

“If the information is good. We keep getting fake tips.” Peter slumps in his seat and holds out a hand for another bottle. Wade hands it to him, open.

Drinking is almost pointless for both of them, because of their healing factors, but it’s nice for a little while. It always hits Peter harder than it hits Wade.

As upset as Peter was, the alcohol helps, and he’s slowly coming back down to a good level. He’s back to wanting to be touched again. It’s outside of Peter’s usual comfort zone and it makes him feel restless.

He knows Wade would be more than willing to touch him, but does he really want to open that flood gate?

He eyes Wade sideways for a few long seconds before deciding, fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen?

He scoots his butt across the bench, closing the foot or so of space between them, and lays his head on Wade’s shoulder.

Wade opens his mouth to say something, but Peter slaps a hand over it. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t even think about it. Just hug me.”

He closes his eyes as Wade’s arm folds around him and sighs again. He’s warm and comfortable and he wonders how long this can last before Wade’s mouth ruins it.

Peter finishes his beer and keeps the empty bottle in his hands. He fidgets with it, his hands longing for something else to hold onto. This whole touching thing is getting out of control. He needs to go home before he does something he’s going to regret with Wade.

He sits up straight, shrugs out of Wade’s hold, and says, “I should get going. Find out when the auditions are, and… call me.”

“Call you?”

“I swear, you better not make me regret this.” Peter holds a hand out to take Wade’s phone.

Wade hands it to him with far too much enthusiasm. “Baby boy, what’s happening? You let me cuddle with you and now you’re giving me your phone number? What’s happening?”

“Stop talking,” Peter deadpans. He shoves the phone back in Wade’s hand. “Call me for  _ emergencies only _ . Do you understand?”

Wade squeals excitedly as a response, and Peter rolls his eyes. “I’ll text you every morning and every night.”

“I regret this already,” Peter says. “I’m going home. See you later.”

He leaves before Wade can say more words. He goes straight home and pulls off his suit to climb in bed. He’s almost asleep when his phone goes off.

He groans out loud and almost doesn’t even pick up his phone. If it’s Wade, he’s going to kill him tomorrow.

He caves and looks at it, only to see a snap from Thomas.

**DoubleTap** :  
Good night, baby boy.  
Thinking about you.  
Hope you’re sleeping well.

Peter can’t help the little smile that creeps onto his face. He feels like he should turn the light on for a photo, but he’s too exhausted. Thomas probably thinks he’s been asleep all night anyway. He opts out of texting back and closes his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Peter is in the middle of checking his messages when there’s a knock on his door. He never gets visitors, so he immediately goes into defense mode.

When he opens it, though, it’s just the mailman. “Mr. Parker?”

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.”

“I’ve got a shipment for you, please wait a moment.”

Peter mouths the word  _ shipment _ like he doesn’t understand. Is it just a package?

The man comes back a few minutes later with a  _ dollie _ of boxes. “I just need a signature from you, sir.”

“These are all for me?” Peter asks. He’s confused, but the man repeats his address, so he signs.

He takes the boxes inside, and sure enough, they all say Peter’s name on them.

Still confused, he finds a knife to cut one of them open. It’s  _ full of toys _ . He opens the rest, and they’re all the same. It’s every single thing he asked for. Vibrators, plugs, dongs, every shape and size, and even things he really only requested for clout. What is he supposed to do with thirty feet of rope on his own?

He scrambles for his phone to message Thomas.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Did you overnight express every single thing on my wish list?

**DoubleTap** :  
Good morning.  
Yes.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Why?

**DoubleTap** :  
Because you deserve it?

Peter buries his face in his hands. He’s burning up; embarrassed and full of a sense of  _ value _ . It’s been a long time since someone made Peter blush, but here he is, face down on the ground and overcome with butterflies.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful.  
I’m just shocked.  
Thank you so much.

**DoubleTap** :  
Can I be honest with you this time?

Peter waits for a follow up, but it doesn’t come. After a few minutes, Peter starts to worry.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You can tell me anything.

**DoubleTap** :  
Sorry.  
You remind me a lot of my best friend.  
I love him, but he’s not interested in me. He never will be.  
And I want to be a better friend to him, so I’m distracting myself with you.  
I probably like you more than I should.  
And I’m going to spoil you rotten, if that’s alright.  
That’s all.

Peter reads those messages a few times. He’s not sure if this means he’s taking advantage of Thomas or not. Wasn’t he always, sort of, taking advantage of him? Isn’t that the whole idea?

He chews his lip as he worries, and before he knows it, too much time has passed. He panics, not wanting Thomas to think he’s ignoring him, and types out a quick message.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m sorry about your friend.  
I’m here for you whenever you need me.

Is that the right thing to say?

**DoubleTap** :  
Glad to hear it.  
Why don’t you pick a toy and distract me some more?

Peter looks back at the literal mountain of toys and feels a little flutter at the idea of showing them off for Thomas. Even if he’s technically taking advantage of him, at least he’s also helping him.

Peter sifts through the boxes for a while, until he finds a small plug, and a dong with a suction cup on the end of it. He snaps a photo of the two toys and follows it with a text.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Why don’t you let me wear this all day to get adjusted, and I’ll put on a little private show for you later?

**DoubleTap** :  
You’re going to wear that plug all day for me?

Peter swallows the dry, nervous lump in his throat. It’s a good nervous. His skin already feels over sensitive with heat.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Yes, Sir.

**DoubleTap** :  
Show me.

Peter chews his lip. Okay, this is happening. He throws his clothes off to the side and he can hardly contain himself as he lubes up the plug. He sets his phone up to record on it’s own, then gets on his knees in front of it.

He spreads his legs, and drops down onto his chest, giving his camera a  _ full _ view as he presses the spade of the plug to his hole. He sucks in a breath as he presses it in. It takes several tries, in, back out, in a little further, out again. He’s breathing hard, and lets out the most satisfied moan when the widest part of the plug finally slips inside. He knows the plug is small, but it feels huge inside him.

He watches the video playback with a humiliating amount of pleasure before he sends it to Thomas.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m so full, I can’t even take it.  
I’m not going to last all day.

**DoubleTap** :  
You are so fucking sexy.  
How are you so sexy?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m a photographer, hahaha.

**DoubleTap** :  
No, baby boy, that’s all you.  
Every inch of you is delicious.  
You can touch yourself if you want.

When did Peter start needing permission to touch himself? He can’t even be mad about it, because the command goes straight to his dick. Oh, when did he get hard?

A sharp hiss escapes him when his trembling fingers touch his hot skin. If he’s like this now, with such a little plug, how exactly is he going to survive the rest of these toys?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I can’t, it’s too much.  
Oh god, why didn’t I try this sooner?

**DoubleTap** :  
You can do it.  
Cum for me, baby boy.

Peter takes a deep breath, laying his head back against the hard floor. God, he didn’t even make it to his bed this time. So much for keeping his content in aesthetic. Thomas is going to ruin him.

He opens the video camera again and watches himself through it. He attempts to wrap a hand around himself again, an unfiltered moan falling from his lips as his whole body jerks. He only gets a few stroke in, already completely overwhelmed by the stretch in his ass. His vision goes white through his orgasm, and his body goes weak against the floor when it’s over.

It takes him several minutes to work up the strength to pick up his phone again.

**DoubleTap** :  
God, I wish I could be there to touch you.  
Your voice is just as sexy as the rest of you when it’s breaking.  
You should take it easy after an orgasm like that.  
Are you okay?

Peter reads the timestamp and realizes that ten minutes have gone by since he sent the last video. He doesn’t even remember  _ sending  _ it.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Yeah, sorry, I lost myself for a second there.  
I think I need to take a nap…

**DoubleTap** :  
Drink some water first.  
You’re so good, baby boy, that was amazing.  
Take care of yourself.

Peter finds himself overwhelmed with the need to be held again. He almost wants to cry, he needs it so bad. His mind wanders to Wade, but that’s a bad idea. He curls up in his spot on the floor as his heart races. He’s so not fucking used to this. Maybe he wasn’t ready.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you.  
I have to go, but I promise I’ll talk to you later.

**DoubleTap** :  
Shit, babe, I’m sorry.  
Please get some rest.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I will.

Peter waits for what feels like hours, and his breathing still doesn’t go back to normal. He feels more alone than ever and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Maybe it’s time to tell Bobbi the truth.

He calls her. She picks up after the second ring.

“Peter?”

“Bobbi,” Peter says, and he can hear how pathetic his own voice sounds. “Can you come over? I think I need help.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m on my way.”

She hangs up, and Peter stays in his ball on the floor until she knocks on the door.

“It’s open,” Peter says, but it comes out quieter than he meant it to, and he has no idea if she can hear him.

She opens the door anyway, sees him on the floor, takes one look around, and frowns. “Peter, what happened?”

“Can you just…” Peter trails off and looks away from her. He doesn’t know how to explain himself and he knows she’s not going to approve.

Bobbi looks like she doesn’t understand, but she picks Peter up off the ground and carries him to bed. She kneels beside him and looks him in the eye. “What do you need? Are you physically hurt?”

Peter shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at her. “Will you… lay with me?” he asks. “I just want…” he trails off again, but Bobbi does what he asks.

She climbs in bed behind him and wraps her arms around him.

Peter can feel the burning behind his eyes and in his chest, but he takes a deep breath and pushes it down.

Bobbi stays silent for a while, and Peter eventually goes numb with the effort it takes not to cry. He gets as close to her as possible, and eventually turns to bury his face against her.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Bobbi asks. She’s obviously uncomfortable, but there for Peter nonetheless. This is so unlike him that she doesn’t know what else to do.

“Yeah, um… The new job I took…” Peter starts. He keeps his head down, so he still doesn’t have to look at her. He’s calm now, sort of, but he still doesn’t feel good. “It’s cam modeling. It’s been working out really well, I made a lot of money off of this one guy in the like two days.”

“But?” Bobbi presses.

“But I think my body’s just not used to this. I got overwhelmed and panicked, I guess. Sorry for being dramatic... I’ve never felt like that before.” He finally looks up, braving seeing her face. “Are you mad at me for coming over here for this?”

“No, Peter, I’m not mad. But I do think you need to chill out if you can’t handle what you’re doing.”

“I thought I could handle it,” he mutters, looking down again. “I’m Spiderman, I can handle anything.”

“Except sex, apparently,” Bobbi deadpans. “Look, I’ll support you if this is what you think is best, but not if you’re going to end up like this every time.”

“You’re right.” Peter covers his face with his hands and shakes his head. “I really like the guy I was talking to. He bought me all that stuff out there.”

“Gross.”

“Maybe I need to start smaller.”

“Okay, are you done with this breakdown? Because you need to take a shower, and I don’t want to talk about your sex life.”

“You don’t care about my sex life, Bobbi? What kind of friend are you? Wade would care.”

“Oh, is Wade a better friend than me?” Bobbi frowns and pushes Peter off the bed. She has never liked Wade and she hates that Peter teams up with a scumbag like him. “Why don’t you tell him all about it and see how long it takes him to track the fucker down and kill him?”

“Yeah,” Peter starts. He pushes himself off the ground and tries to stand on his still-wobbly legs. “Wade will never hear about this. I’ll die first.”

“Take a shower first,” Bobbi insists. She gets up and leaves Peter alone in his bedroom. It’s only now that Peter realizes he’s still naked and the plug is still inside him.

He does  _ not _ deserve Bobbi as a friend.

He takes his shower, carefully removes the plug, and puts some clothes on. The smell of food brings him back out of his bedroom.

“Don’t get used to this,” Bobbi says, when she can hear Peter coming. “I’m not your mother.”

“I know, Bobbi, thank you.” Peter gives her a quick squeeze of a hug before picking his phone up off the ground. He has several missed messages from Thomas.

He sits down with the plate Bobbi made him and takes a few wonderful, comforting bites before checking the messages.

The first thing he sees is the $200 deposit.

**DoubleTap** :  
Peter, please message me when you’re alright.  
I feel sick thinking that you went into drop and I wasn’t there to help.

Drop? What is that?

Peter does a quick google search.

_ Subdrop: The temporary depression and/or chemical imbalance experienced after intense submissive play; generally caused by a sharp decrease in endorphins, cortisol, epinephrine, and adrenaline after ending a session. _

Only some of that definition applies to what happened. He thinks he probably shocked his body more than his mind. He doesn’t think that was a “submissive session” either, but whatever. He goes back to his messages.

**DoubleTap** :  
I’ll do whatever I can for you.  
Tell me what you need.

Then, at a later timestamp:

**DoubleTap** :  
Okay, I’m going to leave you alone, but please just let me know you’re okay.

Peter chews around his fork while he thinks, then looks up at Bobbi across the table. “He sent me $200.”

“For what, Peter? Jesus, what did you put yourself through for him?”

Peter shrugs. “I barely did anything. I think he’s just really generous and lonely. He told me I remind him of his best friend.”

“Sounds like a creep to me,” Bobbi says, and she has a point.

Peter sighs and looks back down at his phone.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m fine, thank you for worrying. <3  
I don’t think I “dropped” but I did have to call a friend.  
I’m all better now.

Thomas is quick to reply.

**DoubleTap** :  
Oh, thank god.  
Take it easy the rest of the night.  
I swear, I was so fucking worried.  
We can take it slow from now on.

Peter smiles and drops his cheek in his hand. He forgets to keep eating.

“Ew,” Bobbi says, “Right in front of me? Is this the thanks I get?”

“Sorry,” Peter says. He puts the phone down, but he doesn’t stop grinning. “I was just letting him know I’m okay.”

“Do you even know anything about this guy? How old is he? What does he do for a living that he can afford to give you $200 for ‘basically nothing?’”

“I don’t know.” Peter runs a hand through his damp hair and picks at his food. “Does it have to matter? Who cares if he’s some 90 year old retiree? He’s nice and seems to not care about the money.”

“If you ask me, no one with that much money can be up to any good.”

Peter frowns.

“Just be careful,” Bobbi sighs. She gives Peter a look. “I’m busy, I can’t always come to your rescue.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m being careful. He’s never even seen my face. I think you’re worrying too much.” Peter flexes a bicep with a wink, and Bobbi rolls her eyes.

“That’s my cue to leave.” She stands up and leaves the mess for Peter to clean. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Spiderman has work to do.”

“Thanks again, Bobbi. I don’t deserve you.” Peter gives her a genuine smile as she leaves.

He sits quietly for a while, picking through his food as he tries to work up an appetite. He glances at his phone a few times, which is face down on the table. He never thought about who Thomas  _ is _ . He just assumed he was some big shot at some company in his 30s or 40s maybe. And yeah, Peter isn’t quite 30 yet, but the potential age gap didn’t really bother him before. Not until Bobbi suggested he was some dirty old criminal.

He wants to ask, but he shouldn’t. What if he doesn’t like the answer? The whole relationship is based on anonymity, anyway. It would be rude.

He picks his phone up and opens the Amazon app. He starts a new wish list and stares at it for a while. He feels weird about filling it with regular things. Why would Thomas be interested in buying him toilet paper and a new pair of shoes? But it’s things he needs, and Thomas said that’s what he wants to see.

He peppers in a few things that he might not  _ need _ , but he likes. He adds a few nice pairs of underwear, some nice clothes, things he can still show off for his subscribers. He ends up sitting in the same spot at his table all day, building a solid list of things he thinks will last for a while. There’s no way Thomas will buy the entire thing again at once, that would be ridiculous.

He opens Snapchat and looks down at it for a while before deciding to actually message him.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I took the day to relax and work on the wish list you asked for.

**DoubleTap** :  
Yeah? Is it ready?

Peter wonders briefly how it is that Thomas always replies so quickly. How is he never at work during the day?

He sends the list, and gets a reply a moment later.

**DoubleTap** :  
Can I make a suggestion?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Sure.

**DoubleTap** :  
You should add a weighted blanket.  
I get the impression that you might live alone, and something like that could help a lot when you wear yourself out and no one is around to hold you.

Peter doesn’t respond right away. A warmth starts to pool in the pit of his stomach, and he can’t place it exactly, but it feels good to have someone worry about him so much.

He updates his wish list with the blanket.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you, I added one.  
I never thought about that before.  
If you couldn’t tell, I’m pretty new to all of this.  
I haven’t worked it all out yet.

**DoubleTap** :  
I understand.  
Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, but have you actually had sex before?  
In person, not like with me.

The question startles Peter a little. Not because he doesn’t want to answer it, but because he hadn’t considered what he was doing to be sex  _ with  _ Thomas. It kind of is, though, isn’t it?

Peter shivers and types out a response.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I have, a few times.  
With girls, though.  
Mostly my ex girlfriend.

Peter’s heart aches, remembering Gwen. Now is not the time for that.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
The only man who ever wanted to be with me I’m pretty sure is joking about it.

**DoubleTap** :  
Joking?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Not in a mean way.  
Like, playfully.  
He lays it on pretty thick sometimes, though.

**DoubleTap** :  
Maybe he’s not joking.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Even if he’s not joking, I don’t know.  
We’re coworkers.

**DoubleTap** :  
Hm.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Let’s not talk about him.  
I have to go to work soon, and I don’t want to think about him like that all night.

**DoubleTap** :  
Not to be jealous, but I don’t want you to think about him all night either.

Peter sucks in a breath. He doesn’t know what to say to that.

**DoubleTap** :  
I have to go soon, too.  
Don’t work too hard tonight.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I won’t. It’s an easy shift.

**DoubleTap** :  
I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  
Good night, Peter.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
<3

Peter heaves a small sigh and looks down at his unfinished food. He doesn’t technically have to leave yet, but if he doesn’t leave now, he might not go out at all. Even if he feels better mentally, he’s physically exhausted.

He cleans up his kitchen, suits up, and heads out. Hopefully Wade found out when the auditions are. Peter is tired of doing regular patrol. It gives him way too much time to think when he’s not too busy fighting.

_ Maybe he’s not joking _ .

Peter shoves that thought aside. Even if he happened to be interested in Wade, which he’s not, Wade isn’t going to pay his bills for him. There’s no point in thinking about it.

When he comes up on the roof, Wade looks distracted. Upon closer inspection, Peter can see he’s busy playing with his phone.

“Hey, Webs,” he says, without looking up. “You’re early.”

Peter sits with his back against the fire escape, opposite of Wade. “Yeah, well. I had a long day. I want to get it over with. What are you doing?”

“Shopping,” Wade says. Several taps later, Wade turns his phone to show Peter the biggest automatic weapon he’s ever seen.

“Compensating for something?” Peter asks, raising a brow.

“Size isn’t everything, baby boy,” Wade says. He takes his phone back and adds, “It’s the aesthetic.”

“What are you buying a gun for? I thought we were done with that.” Peter eyes Wade, suspicion in his voice.

“Can’t I just want to have nice things?” Wade returns. “I won’t hurt anyone with it. I’ll just send very strongly worded letters.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Wade says, and he almost doesn’t sound like he’s joking anymore, so Peter lets it drop.

“Did you find out when the auditions are?”

“Sunday. Nine o’clock.” Wade finally looks up from his phone. “What’s your plan?”

“We’re going to audition.”

“Looking like this?” Wade asks, gesturing between the two of them.

“Well…”

“Unless you want to finally show me that pretty face of yours, I don’t think that’s the best plan.”

“Then we’ll stakeout.”

Wade groans, long and loud. “Webs, I hate stakeouts.”

“What’s your plan, then?” Peter crosses his arms, bringing his knees up. He misses his bed.

“Ambush,” Wade says, easily. “We can take down a bunch of goons, easy. This might be our only shot to take out Tarion directly.”

“With your massive guns?”

“If that’s what it comes to.”

Peter shakes his head and looks away from Wade, down at the gravel on the roof. “What is it going to take, Wade?”

“Bad joke…” Wade admits.

“We’ll do the stakeout. If things look good, we’ll go with the ambush. Fair?” Peter asks.

“Fair.”

A quiet settles between them. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but with Wade, silence never lasts long.

“What do you want to do until Sunday?”

Peter shrugs. Honestly, he’d rather stay home until Sunday. But Spiderman can’t do that. “Want to take a walk?”

Wade stands, pocketing his phone, and helps Peter up. “Where to?”

“Around. Does it matter?”

Wade gives Peter a look, like Peter said something weird. But he doesn’t mention it. “We could walk past the auto shop. See what’s going on.”

“Sure,” Peter says. He’s already hopped the gate and making his way down the fire escape.

The walk to the shop takes over an hour. Peter keeps waiting for Wade to try to grab his hands or pick him up or play any of his usual games, but he’s weirdly on his best behaviour. They walk right next to each other the whole time and Wade doesn’t so much as look at his ass. By the time they get there, Peter is visibly frustrated by the tension he only built up on himself.

But why does he care? He doesn’t. He doesn’t need Wade to touch him or make him feel wanted. He doesn’t need to be validated with crude jokes and ass grabs. He doesn’t, that would be stupid.

“It’s here,” Wade says. He peeks through a window to see a very dark and very empty room.

Peter looks too, then frowns. “They’re not even pretending to be a real shop, they just put up a bogus sign.”

“Looks like a trap to me,” Wade says. The more he looks, the worse he feels about it. “This has set-up written all over it. That Weasel son of a bitch sold me out. After everything I’ve done for him.”

“Seemed to me like he hated you,” Peter says. “We should get out of here, they might be watching.” He ducks away from the window, and pulls Wade down when the man refuses to move. “Now that we know they’re planning something, we need to be prepared.”

“You think?”

“Did you have something in mind?” Peter asks, annoyed by Wade’s tone.

“ _ Ambush _ ,” Wade repeats, like he knew all along. “We hit them before they even know we’re coming.”

“Hit them with what, exactly? There’s two of us, and who knows how many of them.”

“Can’t be that many of them, this place isn’t that big. We’ve handled worse.”

“Hm.” Peter turns his back to the wall and crouches against it. He doesn’t want to admit that Wade is right, but--

“You don’t want to admit I’m right, do you? I know you hate being wrong, Webs, but this is our best chance.”

“No guns.”

“Rubber bullets.”

“Ugh.” Peter pushes off the wall and starts to walk away. Wade follows close behind him.

“We can wrap them all up in a pretty web for the police, just the way you like. I’ve been good, I swear, why do you doubt me so much?”

Peter feels a guilty tug in his chest. He doesn’t have a good reason. It’s just hard to let go of who Wade used to be. He stops, his arms crossed, to look Wade in the eye. The mask. He sighs deeply before apologizing. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to treat you like that.”

Wade shifts and rubs the back of his head uncomfortably. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I mean it, Wade. I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way since I met you.”

“Ugh.” Wade drags his hands over his face, clearly exasperated. Usually, this is where he’d say something stupid about being rewarded for his good behaviour sexually, but he keeps his mouth shut. “I appreciate it,” he says instead. “Can we move on?”

Peter raises a brow and watches him for a few seconds. Then, turns to keep walking.

They walk for a while, with exactly zero things to do, and eventually they go their separate ways for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Peter lays in bed for a while, just looking at his ceiling. The last few days have been a lot, and he’s wondering if he should take Bobbi’s advice and take a day to chill out.

He probably should, but laying there and doing nothing is making him restless. After a while, his phone buzzes beside him. He looks, and of course it’s Thomas.

**DoubleTap** :  
Good morning.  
Are you feeling better?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you, yes.  
Good morning.

Peter fidgets with his phone. He’s not sure if he’s in the mood for this right now. He’s a little mixed up inside, and he doesn’t want another incident after yesterday.

**DoubleTap** :  
I don’t want you to feel pressured to put on a performance for me, but can we just talk?  
I had a rough night, and you have a habit of making me feel better.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Sure, we can talk.  
Is it about your friend?

**DoubleTap** :  
He’s too fucking good for me, Peter.  
I don’t know why I can’t move on.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
It’s hard.

Peter doesn’t exactly have feelings for Thomas, not romantic ones anyway, but it’s still weird to talk to him about his love life. It almost feels like he’s been pulling a married man away from his spouse. Is Peter the other woman?

**DoubleTap** :  
He says things sometimes that just,  
Rip me to pieces.  
I want to be good for him, but it’s so hard.  
It’s like he’s teasing me.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m sorry, that sounds terrible.  
I’m not good with relationships, so I don’t know how to help.

**DoubleTap** :  
You do enough, baby boy.  
You help me so much.

Surprisingly, this conversation isn’t helping Peter. He hugs his pillow and sinks further into bed.

**DoubleTap** :  
Did your package come yet?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Not yet.  
What is it?

**DoubleTap** :  
The blanket. And a few other things.  
Buying it didn’t make me feel as good as I thought it would.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
What do you mean?

**DoubleTap** :  
I want to be there for you.  
I want to hold you while you sleep and when you’re coming down off a particularly good orgasm.  
I want to kiss you good night and make you breakfast in the morning.

Peter covers his mouth with his blankets, feeling exactly what he’s been missing: being wanted, validated.

**DoubleTap** :  
Maybe I’m projecting on you because of him.  
But I mean it.  
I hope the blanket is at least some comfort for you.  
You deserve to be praised every moment of the day.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
My coworker used to treat me that way.  
He hasn’t mentioned my ass in a while. I wonder if he’s okay.

**DoubleTap** :  
If it helps, I love your ass.  
I would touch it every chance I had if I could be there.

Peter lets out a soft laugh. Okay, now he has to take a picture of it.

He pulls the blanket away just enough for a peek, bare ass and naked thigh in the bright morning light.

**DoubleTap** :  
Baby boy, you are an absolute snack.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
At least someone still appreciates my ass.

**DoubleTap** :  
Anyone who doesn’t is wrong.

Peter’s smiling now. It’s weird how someone he doesn’t even know can make him feel so much better, especially like this. But Thomas just has a way with him, he supposes.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You know, I was in kind of a slump this morning.  
But I think I’m ready to try again now.

**DoubleTap** :  
Try what?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I swear, I’m going to take that toy by the end of the week.  
I’ll train night and day.

**DoubleTap** :  
Maybe just use your fingers for now.  
Don’t hurt yourself.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I bet you would know exactly how to take care of me.

**DoubleTap** :  
You know I would.  
Don’t get me wrong, I would love to wreck you.

Peter’s heart skips a beat.

**DoubleTap** :  
But I think you need some tender love and care first.

Peter wonders what he did to attract such a good person. He didn’t think anyone would behave like this when he decided to start modeling. He thought it would be uncomfortable and pressured and forced. But not with Thomas.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thomas?

**DoubleTap** :  
What is it?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you for being so nice to me.

**DoubleTap** :  
<3

Peter bites his lip and stares at his phone for a long moment, before groaning and dropping it beside him. Part of him wishes he could see Thomas in person. The things he says sometimes are so sweet, and maybe it’s all talk, but it would be nice to have someone who knows what he’s doing to take the reins from him. Touching himself is starting to feel a little empty.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Round three.

He’s still mostly soft, but he’s starting to get there. He rolls onto his back and pulls his legs up. He slides a hand between them and just brushes a dry finger over his hole. It sends a shiver up his spine, just the touch.

He grabs one of the (many) bottles of lube he was gifted and lets it pour over his skin. He touches again, and the slide makes him suck in a breath.

Slowly, Peter, slowly.

He grabs his phone again and takes a quick picture instead of a video. The lube shines on his skin in a way that makes his chest flutter.

He sends it and continues to rub slow circles with a fingertip.

**DoubleTap** :  
God, the things I would do to you.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Not right now, you wouldn’t.  
You would sit there and watch, just like you are now.

**DoubleTap** :  
Christ.  
As sweet as you are, who knew you could put me in my place?

Peter circles to a stop, where he presses his finger over the surface of his hole. He bites his lip as he carefully pushes it inside. He moves, a small in and out motion, and his head rolls back against the pillows.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Why is it so overwhelming?  
I’m so hard already from half a finger, it’s so good.

**DoubleTap** :  
Try not to think about it so much.  
When you get in your head about something, it’s easy to get overwhelmed.  
Believe me when I say that it can get so much better than this.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
It’s hard to believe.

Peter pushes his finger further, but from this angle, he can’t reach far enough for the whole thing to go inside. It’s probably for the best that he can’t. If he touched his prostate, he might die.

He slides another finger in with a short gasp.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’ve got two in.

**DoubleTap** :  
You’re so good, baby boy, you can do it.

Peter tries to clear his mind. Maybe Thomas is right, maybe he’s making a bigger deal about it than he needs to. He takes deep, even breaths as he works himself open.

He works up a relaxed rhythm. He feels calm. It’s nice, but it’s not so overwhelming that he can’t think.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I feel so good right now.  
I think this is how it’s supposed to feel.

**DoubleTap** :  
Well, you weren’t wrong for how you felt before.  
It was actually extremely sexy to watch you fall apart so easily.  
But if you want to last longer, this is good.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I think I want to try the plug again.

**DoubleTap** :  
Go for it, baby.

Peter hisses as he removes his fingers. An emptiness fills him that he can’t describe. He leaves the comfort of his bed to grab the plug, but jumps right back in once he has it.

He’s surprised by how easily it slips in. He gasps when it sinks into place, and takes a second to breathe before moving again.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
It’s in.  
I’m good.

**DoubleTap** :  
I’m so proud of you.

Peter buries his face in his pillow again. His body is warm and light, and there’s a certain feeling pooling in him. Maybe it’s just the lingering pleasure from not cumming. Maybe it’s the way Thomas praises him.

He lays there long enough to almost fall asleep again, when there’s a knock on the door. He doesn’t want to get up, but it’s probably the mail.

He drags himself out of bed and throws on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Every move he makes, makes his knees weak. He’s still wearing the plug.

He opens the door, his face red with effort and embarrassment. He can’t stop thinking about the toy still seated inside him, while he’s having a casual conversation with someone. It’s disgusting. Dirty. Exciting.

He signs for the boxes and brings them inside.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Your gifts came.

**DoubleTap** :  
Do you like them?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I haven’t opened them yet.  
I was still wearing the plug when I answered the door.  
I’ve never been so humiliated.

**DoubleTap** :  
Did you like it?

Peter chews his lip nervously. He never knew he would be talking to someone so easily about things like this. Or at all.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Yeah, I did.  
I think I might like attention.

**DoubleTap** :  
Oh, baby boy, you’re funny.  
Did you just figure that out?

Peter snaps a picture of his middle finger and sends it to Thomas.

He cuts open the boxes and looks through what he has. The blanket came, along with several of the other things he asked for. It’s not everything, which makes Peter feel better about it.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You got the chest, thank you so much.  
The toys you got me have been sitting in the shipping boxes because I had nowhere to put them.  
Now I can have a nice little collection. <3

**DoubleTap** :  
Glad to be of service.  
Did the blanket come?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Yes.  
It’s heavier than I thought it would be.

**DoubleTap** :  
I hope it helps.  
You seems to be doing better already without it.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I am.  
I’ve been wearing the plug for almost two hours.

**DoubleTap** :  
I bet you’d be nice and ready for something bigger by now.  
Your ass is probably in perfectly fuckable condition.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Should I test that theory?

**DoubleTap** :  
If you think you can handle it.

Peter suddenly feels insulted. He’s  _ Spiderman _ , since when does he have to question what he can and can’t handle? He’s been on his deathbed, more times than he can count, still on his feet and fighting for what’s right. Sure as hell, he can handle a little sexual stimulation.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Don’t challenge me. I don’t like to lose.

**DoubleTap** :  
Noted.

Peter huffs and sets his phone aside. Just to spite Thomas, he’s going to take his time putting the toys away in his new chest before he does anything else.

It actually takes a while to unpackage them all and put them away. He quickly realizes that he hates some of them, just from touching them. They’re too hard, or feel too much like plastic, or have a weird smell. It’s a good thing Thomas bought them all, so Peter could figure out what he likes.

He finds one that he thinks will be perfect. It’s soft, skin-like, with a firm-yet-flexible interior. It’s probably the most realistic one in the collection. It’s not extremely long, maybe five or six inches, and maybe an inch or so thick. Peter thinks he’ll be fine.

He settles back into bed with it, and a bottle of lube beside him. He checks his phone to see zero new messages. That’s fine.

He snaps a picture of the toy against his sheets and posts it to his story. Maybe some of his other followers will be willing to pay to see it.

The butterflies in his stomach come back when he realizes he can’t stall any longer. This is it.

He sits up on his knees, to stick the toy to his headboard at just the right height. As he takes his clothes off, Thomas sends him a message.

**DoubleTap** :  
I can’t wait to hear your sweet voice again.  
You sound so sexy when you’re moaning.

Peter’s face goes warm and he doesn’t reply. He sets his regular phone camera up to record and gets back on his bed. This is a video he wants to save, maybe post again later. People might pay a lot to see his first time.

_ Here goes nothing _ .

Peter settles onto his hands and knees. He reaches behind himself to grasp the plug. The slight movement of it is enough to make him whine as a wave of pleasure rolls up his spine. The excitement builds in his stomach as he pulls it out and lines himself up with the toy.

He’s hard already, with anticipation and the possibility of so many people watching him. He still can’t believe he gets off on being watched. Who knows what else he might get off to?

The head of the toy presses perfectly against his hole when he moves his hips. He holds his breath, then  _ gasps _ when it pushes inside. This whole time, he’s been shocked that it didn’t hurt, but  _ now he gets it _ . He’s been playing too small, and it’s  _ so real now _ .

The stretch from the toy hurts, but it feels so good at the same time. It’s addicting, and Peter needs more of it.

He pushes back, until the entire toy sits inside him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. Every move his body makes leaves him breathless and vocal.

He starts to thrust his hips, and every time the toy slides in, it pushes Peter further and further from his body. He feels weightless and full of a numbing euphoria, but the  _ burn _ . The painful stretch is still there and it keeps him grounded enough to stay in control.

Suddenly, his arms can’t support his weight anymore, and he drops down to his chest. He buries his face in his arms, still thrusting his hips back, and--

“ _ Oh, God! _ ”

The new angle hits his prostate  _ dead on _ . He trembles and whimpers as he comes right up to his peak. He shoves a hand between himself and the bed to grip his cock as he cums all over his sheets. He rides the toy until his oversensitive skin can’t take it anymore, and he falls limp to his mattress.

He lies there, catching his breath for several minutes. He realizes then, holy shit, he wants to have sex with a real guy. He had never cared that much before, but he had no idea what he was missing out on. If it’s this good on his own, imagine…

His mind immediately drifts to Wade. He frowns when he realizes what he’s thinking, and pushes himself off his bed. A shower should clear his head of those awful thoughts. Wade is his friend, not someone he should be thinking of post-orgasm. Wade hasn’t even tried to flirt with him in days, maybe he’s not interested anymore.

He shuts off the recording.

Thomas would be interested. He wonders how bad of an idea it would be to meet Thomas in person. He’s still never even seen a picture of the guy.

Peter makes the shower quick, just to rid himself of the sticky aftermath of his video. He’ll have to wash his sheets, too.

When he picks up his phone again, he reviews the video to make sure his face isn’t in it. Watching it makes his blood rush all over again, and he wonders if he can cum twice in a row or not.

He probably could.

It’s almost sun down, though, so he represses the urge and just sends the video to Thomas. He cleans up the rest of his mess before he gets a response.

**DoubleTap** :  
Baby boy.  
Baby boy, holy shit.  
You are so fucking gorgeous.  
So edible.  
You are everything I needed and more.  
What am I supposed to do with you?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You can pay my bills for me, I’d love that.

**DoubleTap** :  
How much do you need?

Peter’s eyes go wide, because he doesn’t even know if he was joking or not, but he shouldn’t have said it at all. Why did he say that??

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m kidding, you should only tip me what you want to.  
You’ve already done so much for me.

**DoubleTap** :  
Well, I’m not kidding.  
How much do you need?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
No. It’s too much.

**DoubleTap** :  
I promise, it’s not.  
If you don’t tell me, I’ll be forced to guess.  
Will five grand cover it?

_ Holy shit _ .

Peter’s heart races for a whole new reason now.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Please, don’t do that.  
Even if you have that much money, it doesn’t feel right.  
If you really aren’t giving me a choice, my rent is $1,700.  
You’ve already covered my other bills, for the most part.

Peter holds his breath for the next thirty seconds, and then a two thousand dollar tip hits his phone.

**DoubleTap** :  
Don’t ever hesitate to tell me what you need.  
I’ll take care of you.

Peter covers his mouth with a hand and just keeps staring at his phone. He can’t  _ believe _ what just happened.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I don’t know what to say except thank you.  
You probably just saved my life.  
Just.  
Thank you.

**DoubleTap** :  
Don’t mention it.  
It means a lot more to you than it does to me.

Peter doesn’t know what to say anymore. His spidey suit hangs in his hand, because he forgot to keep getting dressed. He just stands there, dumbfounded, in the middle of his apartment.

**DoubleTap** :  
I have to go. Work calls.  
Have a good night, Peter.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Yeah, me too.  
Thank you again.  
Good luck at work.  
<3

He still can’t believe what just happened, but he has to move on. He forces himself to finish getting dressed and only stumbles a little on his way out.

Oh, he didn’t consider that he would be sore after all that. He aches all over, and worst of all, he feels empty. He feels like he can’t focus anymore. His thoughts are scattered. He wants to go back home and do it all again.

After passing their rooftop by several blocks, like an idiot, he groans and heads back. It’s going to be a long night.

The smell of pizza fills his stomach and makes it growl. He didn’t even know he was hungry, but now he’s  _ starving _ . Leave it to Wade to make sure Peter eats.

He sits on the opposite side of three pizza boxes from Wade and takes a slice. He pushes up his mask and takes a huge bite with a delighted moan. “You read my mind, thank you,” he says, around a mouth full of pizza.

“Keep making that noise, I’ll get you all the pizza you want,” Wade says.

A flutter fills Peter’s chest, because he’s still in his post-orgasm haze, and Wade can’t  _ say _ those things to him right now. “Very funny,” he says, but it lacks it’s usual bite.

Peter’s eyes wander from his second slice, up to Wade. He’s a solid guy, all muscle under his suit. His arms are thick and strong. Peter’s stronger than him, easily, but he’s never been able to build up that kind of muscle mass. He’s skinny, but Wade is…  _ big _ . Just big.

And those hands.  _ Those hands. _ He could easily wrap his fingers around Peter’s entire wrist. Or any other part of him. They’d probably feel nice, warm and rough, against Peter’s skin. He could probably hold Peter down with--

“Webs?”

Peter blinks, then looks up. He’s slowly chewing a bite of pizza. “What?” he asks.

“Have you been listening to anything I said?” Wade gives him a look, and Peter suddenly feels exposed. He hasn't heard a single word, and to top it off, he was about two seconds away from thinking about Wade naked, on top of him.

“Sorry, I zoned out,” Peter says. It’s a lame excuse, and he can tell that Wade knows something is up. Wade always knows.

After a hard, suspicious look, Wade asks, “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been acting different.”

Peter looks away and god, he’d a bad liar. “I think I might have the flu or something. You know, it’s whatever.”

“Sure,” Wade says. He’s not convinced. He watches Peter take another slice of pizza.

“Anyway,” Wade continues, “I was talking about tomorrow night. We should have a plan.”

“It’s tomorrow?” Peter asks. Where the fuck did the week go?

“Yeah, it’s tomorrow.” Another look. “They already know we’re coming, so do you even want to bother with the steakout or should we just go for it?”

Peter sighs. “You really think we should just storm in there and start taking names?”

_ “Yes,” _ Wade says, for the millionth time.

Peter shrugs. “Fine. We’ll do it your way,” he says. It’s actually genuine, even if he sounds like he doesn’t care. “We’ll go in early, and start taking them out as they come in.”

“We should go case the place, figure out all the ways they can get in and out. If we can stop them from surrounding us, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

“I don’t want to walk,” Peter says, and jesus, he didn’t mean to whine about it, but he sounds like a child. It’s just that he’s sore and he would rather keep sitting here for a while. “Can we finish eating first?” he asks, attempting to sound like he’s more put together.

“Since when am I in charge?” Wade asks. He slides the pizza boxes closer to Peter.

“Are you calling me bossy?”

“Would I be wrong?”

“I’m not bossy, I’m-- a leader,” Peter says. Okay, maybe he’s bossy, but Wade shouldn’t say it.

Peter watches Wade’s face through several unspoken comebacks, before he finally says, “Alright, leader, finish your pizza. We don’t have all night.”

“What else do we have to do?” Peter asks, raising a brow.

“ _ We _ don’t. I have a life outside of you, you know.”

Peter gasps. “I thought I occupied your every waking thought.”

Wade gives him another look, but this time he almost looks hurt. Peter feels guilty. As quickly as it comes, Wade falls back to normal. “It’s not just the waking thoughts, baby boy, it’s all the other ones, too.”

“Gross,” Peter says. “Now I have to think about where your hands have been while I eat the pizza you bought.”

“I can tell you exactly where they’ve been,” Wade says, with an eyebrow waggle and a slow caress of his own chest.

Peter’s eyes linger on Wade’s chest longer than they should. Why now, of all times, is he noticing how  _ good _ Wade looks? His chest is wide and solid, and Peter would fit perfectly against it. He starts thinking about Wade’s hands again, and how sturdy and comforting they would feel wrapped around his hips. He’d feel small under them, pressed against Wade’s broad, hard chest--

“Spidey?” he hears. God damnit, he was staring again. “I know I’m a snack, but maybe you should make it a little less obvious.”

“I’m sick, I told you…” Peter tries again, but he’s still a bad liar.

“Do you want to call it a night?” Wade asks. He actually sounds concerned.

“No, I’m fine.” Peter finishes off his box of pizza and shuts the lid. “We need to finish the plan for tomorrow. Lets go.”

They stand, and Wade offers Peter a hand.

“Wade, I’m not doing that,” he says, sounding more exasperated than necessary. “We haven’t even gone down the fire escape yet, how exactly would we hold hands?”

“I don’t want to hold your hand,” Wade says. He steps closer to grab Peter by the wrist and scoop him up onto his back. Peter’s arms automatically wrap around Wade’s neck, and Wade supports his thighs in his hands. “You’re not walking all the way across town if you’re sick.”

Being this close to Wade, actually  _ feeling _ that thick, solid muscle pressed against his body does things to Peter that he will never admit out loud. He’s too stunned to speak for a few seconds. “The fire escape?” he finally says again, dumbly, because he can’t muster up the words to tell Wade to put him down. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” Wade says. A shiver pulls up Peter’s spine as Wade’s hands slide down his legs to lock his ankles in front. “There. You’re sticky, I have faith that you won’t fall off.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, but it comes out on a breath. All he can think about is staying pressed together like this, laying in bed, cuddling, wrapping his legs around Wade’s hips--

Wade breaks his thoughts by jumping over the fire escape rail. He holds on tighter than necessary as Wade makes his way down the metal flight.

What is  _ wrong _ with Peter?? He’s never been like this before, and it might be a problem if it doesn’t stop soon. Wade’s back is solid, and he can feel the muscles moving under his skin. It might not exactly be the best thing right now that his entire pelvis is pressed flush to Wade’s lower back.

When they hit the ground, Peter immediately pries himself off of Wade. Nothing good can come from what was about to happen. “I’m good, actually, you don’t have to carry me.”

“You sure?” Wade asks. He’s giving Peter that  _ look _ again, and Peter can’t help feeling like Wade knows something he shouldn’t.

“Where would New York be if Spiderman couldn’t work through a little cold?” Peter rolls his shoulders and starts walking, not wanting to dwell on this conversation anymore.

He really needs to get his shit together. He had no idea he would be this distracted after a few little orgasms. It’s like he’s opened the floodgates and he can’t stop it now. Maybe he needs to get it all out of his system somehow. One big purge.

He definitely needs to do  _ something _ about the way Wade keeps intruding on his thoughts. How is he supposed to work with someone he can’t stop thinking about? Maybe that’s how Wade always feels. Or felt. He really hasn’t shown any interest in Peter lately. Great timing.

_ The timing doesn’t matter because nothing is going to happen. _

They come up on the shop, and Peter has no idea how they got there so quickly. Did he really zone out that hard?

With actual work to do, it’s a little easier to focus. They do a quick perimeter check before heading inside to look around.

They find two regular doors. Several big garage doors on the front of the building, all in a line. Five windows. A skylight. Wade was right, it’s not a particularly big building. They can handle this head on, for sure.

After a more thorough case of the place, they meet in the middle. “Seems easy,” Peter says. “You were right.”

“I can’t believe it was empty. You would think someone would be on guard here.”

“Guarding what?” Peter asks, gesturing to the nothing that surrounds them. “They’ll be here tomorrow, though. If they say auditions are at nine, when do you think they’ll start showing up?”

Wade shrugs stiffly. “I don’t have all the answers, Webs.”

Peter opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it. Maybe he takes advantage of Wade’s information sometimes. He’s just better at getting into the minds of the criminal side than Peter is. “Sorry,” he says. “Maybe we should show up around seven. If they’re here already, great, but if not, we’ll go with the plan.”

Wade nods, his arms crossed. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“It’s still early,” Peter says, frowning.

“You could use the rest. Go home. I’ll take patrol alone tonight.”

Peter starts to argue, but Wade takes him by the shoulders and starts pushing him toward the exit. “Go home.” Wade says again. “I can’t have you getting sick tomorrow.”

Peter can’t argue with that. Maybe it's for the best that he goes home and beats the horny teenager out of himself for the rest of the night. He’s too old to be acting the way he has been. This is what he gets for prioritizing Spiderman for the last thirteen odd years of his life instead of dating, like a regular person.

“Fine,” he says, “I’ll go. But call me if anything happens.”

“Will do,” Wade says. He lets go of Peter, and Peter only briefly looks back before swinging home. He knows Wade can handle it on his own, but that doesn’t make Peter feel good about leaving.

When he gets home, he hesitates in the middle of his living room. Is he really skipping out on Spiderman duties to touch himself alone at home?

Unbelievable. Weak. He doesn’t deserve to call himself a hero.

He checks his phone, but there are no messages from Wade. Wade would call him if something happened, right? So it’s not really like he’s skipping work, he’s still on call. Wade would call him. He would. It’s fine.

He drops down in front of the chest and opens it up. He picks through the toys, coming across things that he never gave a second thought to before. But now… If he had someone to use them with, he might like to try.

He picks up the rope again. He’s been tied up lots of times, by bad guys, and he never liked it very much. Maybe he would like it more under a different context. Everything else seems to be different now, so maybe it would be good.

Handcuffs, same thing, but worse. A waste of time. He could break those easier than he could escape the rope. Maybe he should try self restraint?

His face heats up with an image that suddenly fills his head. A vibrator stuck inside him, his hands useless above his head. Tortured, untouched, always seconds away from cumming, but never getting there.

Maybe that’s exactly what he needs, to wear himself out.

He digs through the chest to find one of the vibrating plugs-- it’s bigger than the other ones he used, but not as big as the dildo from earlier. The smooth silicone makes him wonder how long he could wear it without going raw.

He also grabs a cock ring. He’s never used one, and doesn’t know much about it, but it seems like the right thing to pick.

He goes to the kitchen to fill the plug with fresh batteries and then settles down in bed with his phone. He does a quick google search about cock rings, because honestly, he doesn’t even know how to put it on.

Apparently, it’s supposed to fit  _ behind _ his balls. How is he supposed to get it off when he’s done??

He decides it doesn’t matter and lubes it up anyway. For science.

He slips it easily down the shaft, but the rest of the way isn’t as easy. Carefully, he fits it into place. It’s tight, but the website says that’s fine, as long as he can still feel it. And he can definitely still feel it, he’s getting hard already.

He goes to send a snap to Thomas, but instead he finds a message from Wade. His heart sinks momentarily, thinking he’s  _ going to have to go back out like this _ , but he relaxes when he opens it to see it’s just a selfie. It Wade, smiling and throwing up a stupid peace sign, and a caption:  _ “I know you’re worried, but eveything is fine. Go to sleep.” _

Peter sighs and closes the message. That’s exactly what he needed was Wade in his head right now. Perfect. Wonderful.

He opens Snapchat and takes a photo of his now hard, confined cock. It’s dark in his room, the light from the lamp casting shadows over his body. It gives the photo a much more intimate look, like he’s doing this alone, just for himself and for no other reason. He almost doesn’t want to let Thomas in on it.

He sends the photo anyway, though. Thomas deserves it after how much money he’s spent on Peter.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I got sent home early from work.  
I couldn’t stop thinking about this.

**DoubleTap** :  
Jesus, Peter.  
How did you get here from losing it the other day?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I learn quickly.

**DoubleTap** :  
I can see that.  
Are you trying kinks?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I guess.  
Maybe it will keep me grounded.

**DoubleTap** :  
I can’t wait to see what else you discover.

Peter’s got the plug lubed up now, slick in his hands, and he presses the tip of it to his hole. He slides it in slowly, doesn’t stop until it pops into place. He bites back a noise and takes a moment to collect himself before picking up his phone again.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
How big are you?  
I mean, not like, your dick. Just you.  
Are you bigger than me?

**DoubleTap** :  
You could probably swim in one of my shirts.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Could you hold me down?

**DoubleTap** :  
Absolutely.

Peter sucks in a breath. Maybe, he might really want to be manhandled. It would feel so good to not be in control for once.

But he’s alone right now, and he needs to make  _ himself _ feel good.

He sets his camera up to record and turns the plug on. It’s only got one setting, but it’s enough to knock Peter back on his bed with a gasp.

A low moan falls from his mouth. His hands push through his hair, gripping onto the strands. It’s all he can do to resist the urge to touch himself.

He takes several, deep, calming breaths. The vibrations are  _ very _ different from what he’s experienced so far. And the way the ring grips the base of his cock just… makes him feel like he’s being pulled apart.

Slowly, he pulls his hands from his hair and locks them above his head. He refuses to touch himself this time, determined to draw it out as long as possible. He imagines he’s being held down, helpless and squirming with the plug nestled deep inside him.

Every time he rocks his hips, it rocks against his prostate. Vibrating. Relentless. He whimpers, arching and writhing on his bed. Any other time, he would be close to cumming, but the ring stops him. It brings tears to his eyes, and this time he might actually cry.

His hands clench and unclench above his head, his toes curling beneath him. The urge to touch himself is overwhelming, and he tries to fill the gap with images of a person.

Thomas comes to mind, but it’s hard to imagine someone he’s never even seen a picture of. The last person he saw a picture of was Wade. Wade could easily hold him here, stop him from touching himself, press him down until he doesn’t know his name anymore.

His hips jerk, his strained cock twitching against his stomach. He bets Wade would tease him. Tell him how good he looks. Kiss him all over. Nobody's kissed his neck since high school, and he longs for it now.

He thinks about thick, strong arms pinning him to his mattress. He thinks about a long, hard body rutting against him, and even the ring can’t stop him now. His body bows off the bed, a strangled cry coming from deep in his chest. “ _ Fuck… _ ” It hurts when he cums, everything pent up inside him all rushing out at once. It feels like he’s being wrung dry, leaving him thoroughly empty.

It takes him several minutes to come down this time. His eyes have fluttered closed, his skin is hot, he’s sweating, and his breath comes in slow pants. The plug still vibrates away inside him, rubbing his sensitive nerves absolutely raw. He doesn’t have the energy for a shower, but he does manage to pull the plug out and pry the ring off himself.

He’s about ready to fall asleep, when his eyes shoot open with the realization that he just got off thinking about Wade. Then, he sees his phone, still recording, and he curses himself for being so useless.

He grabs the phone and skims through the video to edit out anything past his orgasm. He opens his messages, and sees the text from Wade again. No, this is not a video he needs to accidentally send.

To the guy he thought about while making it.

No.

He swaps over to Snapchat and sends Thomas the video. He keeps his phone in his hand and waits for a response. The video is a good ten minutes long, though, so staring at his phone is a waste of time.

Eventually, Thomas replies.

**DoubleTap** :  
Baby.  
Babe.  
Sweetheart.  
Peter.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Yes?

**DoubleTap** :  
You are unbelievable.  
I can’t believe how lucky I am to get to watch you.  
You’re so, so beautiful.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you.

**DoubleTap** :  
You’re like a fine painting.  
Except I want to fuck the painting.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Oh, wow, you want to fuck me?  
I had no idea.

**DoubleTap** :  
Tease.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
How else will I entice you?  
Listen, I’ve got to go to bed.

**DoubleTap** :  
I’m still at work, I’ll let you go.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You just watched that at work?

Peter’s heart stutters to think that someone could have been watching over his shoulder.

**DoubleTap** :  
I’m never too busy for you, baby boy.  
I’d stop heart surgery to see you cry like that again.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Well it wore me out and I’m falling asleep.  
Have a good night, Thomas.

**DoubleTap** :  
Sleep well, sweetheart. <3

**PhotoRealistic** :  
<3

Peter plugs his phone in for the night and sets it aside. Before he runs out of energy, he grabs the weighted blanket. It settles over him, heavy and warm and extremely comforting. Almost like he’s being held. He easily falls asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Peter wakes up feeling groggy and vaguely sticky. Not his usual spider-sticky but like, sex-sticky.

He sighs and pulls the weighted blanket tighter around himself. Really, he loves this blanket. It has a way of calming his tired muscles and making him feel cozy. He’ll have to thank Thomas again later for the suggestion.

He lays there for a while, trying not to think too much. But it keeps creeping up on him.

Wade.

He really did that last night. He’s going to feel gross and guilty about that for a long time. It’s not exactly the same thing as non-consent, but it still doesn’t sit right with him.

Then again, he definitely can’t tell Wade that it happened. And it was something private, something no one ever needs to know about. He’s probably making a bigger deal out of it than he needs to.

Wade has probably done the same thing. There’s no doubt in Peter’s mind that Wade hasn’t done the same thing, and that makes him feel much better about it. Sort of. He doesn’t actually want an answer to this question.

He pushes himself out of bed with a deep sigh. He goes about his usual morning routine, shower, breakfast. He decides he should probably do laundry today, since his bedsheets seem to be piling up.

He’s also going to test his endurance today. Why not get one more out of his system before the big showdown tonight?

He goes through his chest again, and finds the plug that seems to be the most wearable. He plans to wear it all morning, until he’s finished with his laundry, if he can make it.

He can probably make it. He’s gotten used to the stimulation in the last several days. He’s got this.

He slips it in, and immediately notices the weight of it. It’s heavier than the other ones have been, forces him to acknowledge that it’s there. Maybe it’ll be a challenge, after all.

He sends a quick snap photo to Thomas.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m going to try all day again.  
Wish me luck.

**DoubleTap** :  
Good luck, sweetheart.  
You look stunning.

Peter grins, reading over the message several times. He might not ever get over loving being told how hot he is.

He tosses his phone aside and puts on some clean clothes. Time to do chores. 

Apparently, he hasn’t done the laundry in a while, because there’s a lot more of it than he thought there was. It’s a good thing he invested in that portable washing machine. It does him good to not have to spend hours at the laundromat. The only downside is that he has to run smaller loads, and there’s no drier.

It’s fine though. It gives him time to lay around his apartment and catch up on TV shows. These are his lazy days.

Before he knows it, it starts getting dark in his apartment. He’s not done with his laundry yet, but holy shit, it’s late. He grabs his phone to confirm, yep, it's almost seven. And he’s got a missed text from Wade:  _ “Where are you??” _

Shit.

He suits up as fast as he can and swings out to meet Wade. He’s going to be late, and his only excuse is that he was doing  _ laundry _ . Classic superhero, Peter, way to go.

He lands on the pavement, next to Wade, about a block from the auto shop. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I lost track of time,” he says, quiet, like someone might be listening.

“It’s fine,” Wade says. “I’ve been watching and no one is here yet.” He comes up behind Peter to peek around the corner and, oh no.

_ Oh no. _

Peter’s heart leaps up into his throat the second Wade touches him. He jumps away, like Wade is on fire, because holy shit,  _ he forgot to take the plug out _ .

He’s hyper aware of how it sits inside him, stretching out his insides, pressing against him in all the right places.  _ At exactly the wrong time _ .

“Are you alright, Webs? I know you’ve been sick, but this is serious, and I need to know that you’re all in.” Wade gives him a serious look, and Peter has to swallow the lump in his throat.

“You know me. I always get back up,” Peter says. Even he doesn’t think he sounds convincing, though.

Wade heaves a heavy sigh. “It’s going to have to be good enough. I’ll pick up your slack. Let’s go.”

Peter doesn’t even have time to argue before Wade is moving around him and toward the shop. It’s all Peter can do to follow him.

They make their way inside, to their hiding spot. And then they wait.

Conversation keeps to a minimum. Wade is on high alert and seems to be much more worried about this than he was before. Peter is only a liability at this point and Wade knows it.

Peter does his best to focus on Wade and his surroundings instead of the huge fucking distraction inside him, but every time he moves, it moves, and he wants to scream. This is absolutely not good. He’s doing a pretty good job repressing his physical reactions, but it’s only a matter of time before he’s going to be sporting the most humiliating hard on of his life.

It feels like an eternity before the first hench shows up. It’s a small group of them at first, and then suddenly a  _ lot _ . So much for hoping there would be a slow trickle.

Wade gives him one more stern look before jumping out into the rumble. He takes out at least ten guys before Peter even manages to move. But to be fair, Wade is fast.

_ Fuck _ . He can’t do this. Even just standing and running sends dizzying waves of pleasure coursing through him, and most of the fighting passes in a blur.

It could last an hour. It could last ten minutes. Henchmen just keep coming and Peter can barely keep up with them.

Peter looks up in time to see Tarion himself enter the scene. He’s got a wicked look on his face that makes Peter  _ angry _ . He starts toward the man, but he can’t focus. His world is spinning. 

He thinks he hears a gunshot, and then a scream. “Spiderman!” Someone hits him,  _ hard _ , and then he’s on the ground. There’s a weight on top of him, and he arches into it with a strangled moan. His body is on fire, and he knows he’s in big fucking trouble.

He can see the headlines now,  _ Spider-Man Found Dead: Apparently Too Horny To Fight. _

He manages to open his eyes enough to see that it’s Wade on top of him, now scooping him up in the air, and they’re running. They’re running away.

“Wade,” Peter groans, clinging around his neck. “Tarion.”

“Are you fucking joking? You’re in no condition to fight,” Wade says. He sounds mad. Peter can’t argue with him.

Wade doesn’t stop running until they’re far enough away to feel safe. He sets Peter down, carefully, against a wall in an alley. He takes a knee beside him. “Are you okay?” he asks. “What the hell happened back there?” He sounds a little less mad, a lot more concerned.

Peter rips his mask up past his nose, because he still can’t  _ breathe _ , and takes a gasping breath. Every inch of him is lit up with need. His eyes land on Wade, and he can’t take it anymore. “Kiss me,” he says.

“Excuse me?” Wade asks, obviously thrown. He backs off a good inch. He doesn’t look impressed.

But Peter is dizzy with need, and he doesn’t care if it’s a good idea or not anymore. They already ran from the fight, they might as well make it worth it. He wants Wade to touch him and he needs it  _ now _ . “I said  _ kiss me _ ,” he demands. He pushes off the wall and advances on Wade, who’s still backing away, but not with very much conviction.

Peter crawls into Wade’s lap, wrapping his thighs around his hips, and tugs at the neck of Wade’s mask with his fingers. For emphasis, Peter rocks his hard, aching cock into Wade’s abdomen. “I don’t have the flu,” he admits.

“I see,” Wade says. It’s all he’s said. He seems stunned, sitting there, letting Peter crawl on him without moving. It’s putting a damper on Peter’s mood, and he lets out a frustrated groan.

“Do you not want me anymore?” Peter asks. Wade’s mask is halfway up his face, and Peter’s hands rest on his chest now. “Because I’m here. I’m ready.  _ I’m saying yes.  _ It’s now or never.” He pauses, his chest tight with the possibility that Wade might actually say no. He could never talk to Wade again if he said no. “Please say now…” he adds, quieter.

That seems to get Wade moving. His big hands settle around Peter’s hips, and fuck, they feel even better than he thought they would.

Wade is leaning in to meet him for a kiss, when Peter pushes him down to the ground. He crashes down on Wade with a kiss that could bruise. He forgets to breathe, until Wade’s hands round the curve of his ass, and he has to stop to gasp.

He buries his face in Wade’s neck as Wade’s hands squeeze and grope. Fingers dip between his cheeks and brush over the plug.

Peter  _ moans _ and arches into the touch. His hands grip tightly into Wade’s suit, breathing heavily into Wade’s neck.

“Oh,” Wade says. His fingers toy with the plug, rocking it into Peter’s body, making him whine and squirm against him. “Baby boy, I’m shocked.”

“ _ Wade _ ,” Peter whines.

Next thing he knows, he’s on his feet, with his suit being pulled down to his knees. Wade presses him into the brick wall, and wow, Peter loves the way Wade’s leather gloves feel on his skin.

Wade grips the plug now, with his thumb and two fingers. “How long have you been wearing this?”

Peter’s face is hot, humiliation washing over him. “Since… this morning. I forgot to take it out.”

Wade lets it go, much to Peter’s distress, and replaces his hand with his cock. It’s dry and thick and heavy, and Peter whimpers as it slides teasingly between his cheeks. It glides right over the plug, an empty promise. “I can take care of you,” Wade says. His voice is smooth and sweet and it courses through Peter like a drug.

“Please,” Peter begs, rocking his ass back to meet Wade’s slow thrusts. He wants it inside him  _ so badly _ . “Please take care of me.” He’s on the verge of tears, and he’s definitely going to start crying if he doesn’t get some relief soon. He feels like he’s going to burst.

Wade kisses his neck, letting his lips linger there while he grabs the plug again. Peter gasps as it slips out of him, and then the thick head of Wade’s cock presses to his hole. His own fingers dig into the brick, his forehead dipped into it, bracing himself to take it.

Wade pushes in, slowly, and then all at once. Peter chokes on a moan, feeling like he’s being ripped in two. “ _ Fuck,  _ oh my  _ god _ .” It hurts, it’s big, it’s nearly raw, with only what's left of the lube from the plug to smooth it out. Peter is left shaking. “More,” he gasps, rutting his hips back into Wade’s. 

The hands wrapped around his hips go firm, keeping him still. “You’ll get what I give you,” Wade says. The threat is clear, and Peter shuts his mouth. He does  _ not  _ want Wade to stop,

Wade shifts his hips, molding Peter perfectly against them, and then slams into him. Peter cries out, tears burning behind his eyelids, but not falling. For a moment, he sees stars, and he forgets who he is. His fingers scrape brick so hard they start to bleed.

He has no control as Wade fucks into him. He’s stronger than Wade, easily, but his body is left useless as it’s wracked from the inside out. The pain fades and leaves him filled with nothing but pleasure. He’s so full, he could burst, and just when he thinks he can’t take anymore, a gloved hand wraps around his weeping, neglected cock.

A sob rips through Peter’s entire body. The tears flow freely down his cheeks now. “ _ Wade,” _ he cries again. It’s all he can seem to say, Wade’s name in between low moans in an attempt to stay quiet. He’s not very good at staying quiet, apparently.

Then, when he’s right at the brink of losing his mind, he’s interrupted. Wade plucks him off the wall and turns him over in his arms. He picks him up, hooks his arms under Peter’s thighs, and folds him in half with his back against the wall. As quickly as it stopped, Wade’s cock is jammed back inside him, making him yelp indignantly. Without the wall to digs his fingers into, he grips at the back of Wade’s mask.

Then Wade is kissing him again, hard and wet and demanding, and Peter just drowns in it. He can’t breathe and he doesn’t care. Every nerve in his body has gone haywire. When Wade’s fingers touch his dick again, he’s done for.

He cums between them with a shout, making a spectacular mess of Wade’s suit. His body trembles, weak in Wade’s arms. His hoarse moans are swallowed whole by Wade’s insistent kisses. And when the waves finally die down, Wade is  _ still moving inside him _ .

He’s limp now, completely spent and oversensitive. His face is red and puffy from crying. His legs and hips are probably covered in bruises. His ass feels rubbed raw, and oh god, that is going to  _ hurt _ tomorrow.

Shock shoots up his spine when he suddenly feels  _ wet _ inside. Did… did Wade just cum inside him? “Fuck…” he mutters, his head rolling back against the brick wall. Wade definitely should have asked first, but it’s… so fucking hot. He’s not even mad. He can’t be mad about anything right now.

The empty feeling only lasts a second when Wade pulls out, because the plug is immediately stuck back inside him. His gut twists with a horrifying satisfaction he had no idea he could feel.

Wade lowers him back to his feet, and his knees buckle immediately. Wade catches him, helps him stand back up. “You alright there, Webs?”

“Mm.” Peter can’t come up with a real response. He’s been well and thoroughly fucked and he needs to go home now. “Thanks,” he manages to say.

“Any time. Literally. It was my pleasure.”

Peter gives a short, rough laugh. Jesus, his throat is as raw as his ass.

He gets his feet steady on the ground and takes a step away from Wade. He pulls his suit up and puts himself back together a little. His head spins as he tries to get a grip on the reality of what he just did. 

Now that his senses are coming back to him, he doesn’t know what to say. “Uh…” he starts, awkwardly. “Usual spot tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Wade agrees. Peter can tell that Wade has a lot more to say, but he doesn’t want to hear it yet. They have a lot to talk about, but there’s time for that tomorrow.

Still foggy, Peter nearly misses when he shoots a web, but it lands, and he swings away. He has no idea how long it takes him to get home.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter doesn’t remember actually getting home. Or going to bed. He’s still dressed in his suit when he wakes up.

His entire body screams at him when he climbs out of bed. The only thing on his mind is how badly he needs a shower. He peels the suit off and wobbles to the bathroom.

He steps into the tub, turns the water on, and lets it warm his skin. It takes him a while, a lot longer than it probably should, to realize that… he’s still full. Of course he is. If he didn’t take his suit off, how would he have taken the plug out? And by extension that means… Wade’s cum is still inside him.

Peter shudders at the thought. As hot as it may have been last night, now it’s just disgusting. It’s just been sitting in there… All night… Ugh. He tries not to think about it as he cleans himself up.

When he eventually makes it back to his room, he’s already ready for another nap. He flops down on his bed, face first, and loses track of time. After a while, he realizes he hasn’t checked his phone yet today.

He picks it up off the nightstand and frowns when he sees that he has zero new messages. It’s not like Thomas to not check on him.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Good morning.  
You wouldn’t believe the night I had.

He waits and watches his phone. A deeper frown creeps over his face when he doesn’t receive an immediate reply. That’s not like Thomas, either.

Wait, should Peter even tell him what happened? His first instinct is to tell him, because he tells Thomas about everything sexual that he does. But is it really Thomas’ business what happens in his personal life? He doesn’t need to know  _ everything _ Peter does.

And Thomas seemed to get jealous when he mentioned Wade before. He definitely should not tell him.

He jumps when his phone dings.

**DoubleTap** :  
Try me.

Peter’s trapped now. He already started to say it, what is he supposed to do now? Lie? Peter is an awful liar.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I forgot to take the plug out before I went to work.  
I almost had to go home sick, it was terrible.  
And by terrible I mean great. Unbearable.  
I might need to take a break today.

Another long pause crosses between them. Peter is starting to get concerned. Did he do something to make Thomas mad?

He looks down at himself. The bruises on his skin make his heart beat faster, but he’s in no condition to send any snaps today. It would give him away.

**DoubleTap** :  
I was wondering why I didn’t hear from you.  
Are you okay?  
It wasn’t too much, was it?

**PhotoRealistic** :  
It was a lot.  
I’m spent.

**DoubleTap** :  
I wish I could be there to kiss your bruises.

Peter raises an eyebrow. What a weird, coincidental thing to say.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You can just say you want to kiss my ass. It’s okay. I know it.  
I’m fine though, really.  
Just need a break.

**DoubleTap** :  
I would do more than kiss it.  
Take all the time you need.  
I’ll be here when you need me.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
You’re the best. <3

Before Peter can pass out again, he grabs the weighted blanket. He rolls up in it, thinking about strong arms wrapped around him, and falls asleep like that.

When he wakes up for the second time, he feels much better than the first. He still hurts pretty much everywhere, but he can move now. It’s almost dark out, which means he slept all day, but it also means he’s going to have to see Wade soon. And that means he’s going to have to  _ talk _ to Wade.

What is he even supposed to say to Wade? The more he thinks about it, the more he’s starting to feel like he took advantage of him. All this time telling Wade no, and then all of a sudden changing his mind on a whim and assuming Wade will be okay with it? Way to be a shitty friend, Parker.

He fixes himself a bowl of cereal and sits there feeling sorry for himself. He’s abusing one of his best friends and he’s lying to the man that just kept a roof over his head for another month. And, to top it all off,  _ he lost Tarion _ . How much lower can he get?

He doesn’t finish his cereal before cleaning up and just leaving. He’s going to have to face it sooner or later, and he’d rather get it over with.

Like always, Wade is waiting for him when he gets there. He takes a seat maybe a little further away than he usually does, hugging his knees to his chest. “Hey,” he says. Smooth.

“Hey,” Wade returns. Well, at least he sounds normal. “How are you? I know I got a little carried away toward the end last night, and… sorry.”

Right to the point then. Peter shifts and doesn’t make eye contact. “It was… fine,” he says. “A little gross, but I didn’t hate it.”

_ Jesus _ .

“Listen,” Peter starts again. It takes him a second to keep going. “I don’t know how you really feel about me or if everything is a joke, but I feel like I took advantage of it-- of you-- and I’m sorry.”

Wade laughs, and Peter shoots him a frown. “Baby boy, you can take advantage of me any time. I’m not upset. In fact, I pretty much enjoyed the hell out of myself. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Hm.” Peter stays quiet for a moment. He didn’t even consider that Wade wouldn’t be upset about it. That’s the defeatist in him, assuming the worst at all times. “In that case…” He shifts again, still not looking at Wade. “I’ve been thinking about it… A lot.”

“About what?” Wade asks.

“Uh…” Peter chews the inside of his cheek. “You.”

“You’ve been thinking about me?”

Peter is embarrassed now, and he’s glad that Wade can’t see his face. “Sometimes,” he admits. He chances a look at Wade now, because he’s not done. “There’s someone else though.”

“You’re seeing someone else?” Wade asks, and now he’s frowning, and Peter hates it.

“Not exactly…” Peter says.

“Then, you’re sleeping with someone else?”

“Not… exactly.” Peter hugs his knees tighter, because now Wade is looking at him expectantly, and he doesn’t know how to explain without giving himself away. “Look, it’s complicated. He exists and that’s all I can tell you about it. It’s not a romantic relationship.”

Wade seems to consider this for a long moment. Peter is positive that he will reject the idea. Wade is too jealous of a person to share Peter. Especially with some vague other man that Peter won’t tell him about.

“That’s alright,” Wade finally says, and it throws Peter for a loop. “If you’re coming to me, then obviously he’s leaving you dissatisfied.” Wade crawls closer, and Peter is too shocked to move away. “And we can’t have you dissatisfied, can we?” He’s leaning over Peter now, and his entire body flares with heat.

“W-Wade, stop,” he says, putting a hand to Wade’s chest to keep him back. “I’m… really sore. I can’t.”

“Was I too hard on you yesterday?” Wade asks, but his concern is laced with something sweet. “Let me make it better.”

Peter’s head spins, and all he can do is nod. Is he dreaming? Having another fantasy? Because this isn’t happening. There’s no way.

His hand falls away from Wade’s chest, so Wade continues. He just sits there dumbly while Wade pulls their masks up, and then he’s being kissed. It’s slower, more tender than it was yesterday. It fills Peter up and makes him feel warm. He moans, small and quiet, while Wade’s hands move behind him to pull his suit off.

Wade’s lips on his neck make him gasp. Wade’s hands are hot against the cool night air as it hits his skin. “Wade,” he breathes, needy and soft.

Wade shushes him with another long kiss, and then he’s being moved onto his knees. He’s putty in Wade’s hands, easily letting himself be moved around.  _ This is what he’s been craving _ , letting Wade take control.

On his hands and kees, Wade is behind him now. He looks back to watch Wade pull his suit the rest of the way down to his knees. Wade takes his now bare ass in his hands, and Peter whines as Wade pulls it apart. His face gets hot again, feeling exposed and vulnerable as Wade eyes his raw, used hole.

He drops down to hide his face in his arms. Wade’s hands on his hips make him feel small as he’s tugged closer to Wade. He really doesn’t think he can handle being fucked again, but he wants it  _ so badly _ . “Please, Wade…”

“Delectable,” Wade says, awed. “It’s even better in person.”

Peter doesn’t know what that means, but he doesn’t have time to figure it out before there’s a  _ tongue dragging over his hole _ . It soothes over his irritated skin, and Peter's hands clench under his arms with a shudder. He bites down on his arm, trying to keep himself quiet. Even if they’re sixty stories above the city, they’re still in public. Someone could hear him.

Wade’s arms wrap around his hips, holding him up and completely at the mercy of Wade’s mouth. “Let me hear you,” Wade says, muttered against Peter’s skin, followed by a kiss. A strangled moan falls from Peter’s lips as Wade’s tongue goes back to its languid strokes.

As soothing and comforting as Wade’s tongue is, Peter quickly finds himself needing more. His hips rock back against Wade’s face with a whine. “Wade…”

And then Wade’s tongue is  _ digging into him _ . Peter gasps and buries his face deeper in his arms. He squirms and whimpers; “ _ More, _ ” falling from his lips between soft cries.

He hears Wade sigh, and then he’s being turned around. Peter finds himself flat on his back, at a loss with Wade’s lips so far away from him. He whines, his fingers digging into the gravel beside him. It’s an eternity before Wade’s mouth meets him again, this time wrapped around his cock.

Peter grits his teeth and fists his hands in the back of Wade’s mask. “Fuck,  _ Wade _ , I’m…” This is all new for Peter, and his body is sore and tired and it feels  _ so good _ against Wade’s hot mouth. He’s been doing better, lasting longer, but not this time.

He gives in and cums with a sharp cry. His bare shoulders dig painfully into the gravel as he arches into his orgasm. Wade mouth doesn’t stop moving on him until the oversensitivity kicks in and he starts to squirm painfully.

Wade pulls off with slow licks over Peter’s sensitive head, still teasing. Peter groans and tugs on Wade’s mask, but it’s weak. “Come up,” he says, but it’s more of a whine.

Wade does as he’s told, coming up to meet Peter in a long, wet kiss. Peter can taste the mix of himself on Wade’s tongue, and the realization hits him that Wade definitely just swallowed.

Peter pulls from the kiss, panting, to touch his forehead to Wade’s. “You’re disgusting,” he says, breathless.

Wade just shrugs and presses another kiss to Peter’s cheek. “What can I say, I can’t get enough.”

Peter holds Wade’s face in his hands, keeping him close while he gathers his senses. How did he fall so easily into this? Is it a thing now? Are  _ him and Wade _ a thing now?

Wade gives him one last kiss before pulling himself away. “You better get dressed, we have damage control to do.”

Peter sits up on his elbows with a wince. Suddenly the gravel doesn’t feel so good. “What about you?” he asks. He can’t just let Wade make a mess of him and walk away untouched. It’s impolite.

Wade shrugs it off. “You can pay me back later.”

Peter bites his lip at the promise of a next time. That answers that, then. He sits up and starts to pull his suit back on. He’s significantly less sore and significantly more tingly. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need to talk to Weasel again. Less friendly. Find out what he really knows. I think he might be more involved than he lets on.”

“I’m not going back inside that bar,” Peter says. He’s dressed, but he stays seated on the ground.

“Yeah, you’re not coming with me. It might get ugly and I don’t…” Wade glances away from Peter. “You don’t need to see it.”

Peter frowns, but he doesn’t argue. It seems like Wade has a history with that guy, so it’s not likely Wade will seriously hurt him. He hopes.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Lay low for a few hours. Don’t go back to the auto shop alone.”

“Who’s bossy?” Peter asks, a sarcastic grin showing where his mask is still pulled up.

Wade flips him off, and Peter grabs his hand to pull himself up. He kisses Wade before he can think twice about it. “Be careful. I’ll be close.”

“Fuck. You’ll ruin me, Webs. Don’t get all sweet on me just because I made you cum a few times.” Wade holds Peter around the waist and pulls him into another sweet, closed mouth kiss, and then lets him go.

“We’ll talk soon,” Wade says, and then he’s off down the side of the building.

Peter watches the empty space where Wade was for several long moments. He doesn't realize he’s holding his breath until he shakes it off with a sigh. When he looks over the edge, Wade is already gone.

He swings away from the building, and does a quick patrol of the area. Nothing exciting happens, so he eventually circles around to the bar.

He perches on the side of a building, watching. He sees people come and go, regular people, criminals, people that make his skin crawl. That’s not who he’s here for, though.

Peter starts to worry as the hours pass. He hasn’t seen Wade come out of the bar, and it churns his stomach in an ugly way. What if Wade needs help?

He checks his phone, but there’s no distress call. Maybe he should give it a few more minutes.

Just as he’s about to give in and go inside, he sees Wade storm out the door. He makes it several blocks before Peter watches him pull out his phone.

He drops down beside Wade before Wade can call him. “How did it go?” Peter asks.

“He wasn’t there,” Wade says. He sounds angry. More so than Peter is used to hearing. It’s kind of startling.

“If he wasn’t there, what took you so long?” Peter asks.

“His friends were there. And they weren’t happy to see me.”

“Wade,” Peter starts. He’s starting to worry about how aggressive Wade is coming off. He smells faintly like blood. “What happened?”

“I took care of it,” Wade says, and it’s cold. Peter hates it. “I know where Weasel is. You should go home.”

“Wade--”

“Don’t argue with me. This is personal. Go home.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say. Like hell he’s letting Wade go like this. “Maybe we should relax first,” he tries. He puts a hand on Wade’s arm, but Wade pulls away from him.

“Wade--” Peter starts again, but Wade turns on him, sword drawn, eyes narrow. Peter’s heart sinks.

“How can you be so unbelievably naive??” Even from his attack position, Wade is slowly backing away, defensive. “He has  _ kids _ . He’s selling  _ kids  _ to sick old perverts and slave traders. What makes you think he doesn’t deserve to die?”

“I don’t want to fight you, Wade,” Peter says, but it sounds like a plea. He reaches for Wade again, but Wade ducks away from him and turns to run.

Peter shoots a web, and it knocks Wade’s sword from his hand, but doesn’t stop him. He shoots again, and again, until Wade’s hands are stuck behind his back and Peter is tackling him to the ground.

“Let me go!” Wade yells, thrashing under Peter. “I’m going to kill him!”

“Stop. Please just stop.” Peter sounds calm, but his heart is breaking. He hasn’t seen Wade snap like this in a long time. “Killing him won’t change anything.”

“ _ But it’ll make me feel good _ .”

Peter sighs and tries to keep a level head. “Killing him won’t save anyone. We need him if we’re going to find the kids. You know how this works. Someone else will just take his place, and nothing will change. It’ll never stop.”

“I’ll kill all of them, they don’t deserve to live.” Wade’s voice is distant, cold, like he’s not listening to anything Peter is saying. And worse yet, he’s squirmed his way out of the webbing and now he’s shoving Peter off of him. “You can’t stop me,” he says, climbing back to his feet.

“You were never a match for me, Wade.” Peter shoots at him again, rapid fire, until he’s spun up so tight that he can’t move.

Wade starts to yell again, but Peter knocks him out. He picks Wade up, heavy and limp in his arms, and carries him home.

He’s never been inside Wade’s apartment before, but he knows where it is. It doesn’t take him long to get there, and he crawls in through the bedroom window to lay Wade on the bed.

He looks at Wade, passed out, webbed up, quiet. His heart hurts again, thinking about what just happened. He knows Wade is sick, but he doesn’t understand it, and it doesn’t make it any easier to see when it shows itself. At least Wade has good intentions. Who knows where they would be if Wade were bad at heart.

He works on pulling the webbing from Wade’s body, until he’s left laying there in his suit. He should leave now, but something is telling him not to. Instead, he pulls off Wade’s belts, his shoes, anything that would be uncomfortable to sleep in.

It’s better, but he still doesn’t feel good about leaving. Maybe he should stay and take a little nap.

Carefully, he crawls in beside Wade. He lays a hand on Wade’s chest, watching him sleep for several long moments. “I’m sorry for all that…” he says, quietly. “I couldn’t let you go.”

He leans down to press a soft kiss to Wade’s cheek, and then lays his head on his chest. He wraps an arm over Wade and closes his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Morning light makes Peter squeeze his eyes shut with a quiet groan. He’s comfortable, warm, gentle fingers in his hair. He turns his face against the body in his bed and sighs, content to continue laying there and pretending to sleep.

Body in his bed…

Hand in his hair…

This isn’t Peter’s bed.

His eyes fly open to realize that he can  _ see _ . Very clearly. As in  _ no mask _ . And what he sees is  _ Wade _ . He must have pulled his fucking mask off while he was sleeping.

His arms tighten around Wade, which earns him a soft, “Good morning, baby boy.”

“Um… good morning,” Peter says. It’s muffled against Wade’s chest, because he refuses to move his face from where it’s buried. His heart is racing and he feels trapped by his own stupidity.

“You’re clearly panicking, so I don’t know if this helps or not, but I already saw. You don’t have to keep hiding.” Wade’s gentle hand cards through his hair again, and Peter’s hands clench in the back of Wade’s suit. He can’t  _ believe _ he outed himself like this. He wasn’t ready yet.

Slowly, he pries himself off of Wade’s chest and looks up at him. Wade presses a kiss to his forehead, and it makes his heart race for a different reason. He’s seen Wade without his mask before, lots of times, but it’s different this time. Raw. Because Peter is exposed too.

“So, um…” Peter starts. He’s about to apologize for the night before, but he stops. Maybe he should leave it alone. Wade seems calm now, and Peter has bigger problems at the moment.

So, he sits up, takes a shaking breath, and holds a hand up in the small space between them. Here goes nothing. “I’m Peter. Hi.”

Wade gives a short laugh, grinning wide as he takes Peter’s hand and shakes it. The way Wade’s face lights up fills Peter with a sense of peace. He never wants to see the face from last night again. “Nice to meet you, Peter,” Wade says. “Are you going to give me a good morning kiss or do I have to do it myself?”

Peter flushes, because just the idea of it is so domestic and intimate. He isn’t Wade’s boyfriend, by any stretch of the word, but it feels like a very boyfriend thing to do.

He does it anyway, leaning back down to press his lips to Wade’s. It’s dry, sweet, and only lasts for a second. Then he does it again. And again. And he melts into it as their soft kisses slowly dissolve into something deeper. It leaves him breathless, lips pink and swollen. His hands cup the sides of Wade’s head, to keep him close, and he whispers between kisses, “This isn’t fair…”

“What’s not fair?” Wade asks. His kisses move down Peter’s throat, so Peter lifts his head to open himself up.

“You weren’t supposed to be good at this,” Peter says. “It’s not fair.”

“Sorry,” Wade says, lips still pressed to Peter’s skin. “I’ll try to tone it down.” His fingers tug at Peter’s suit, and Peter just nods to let him take it off.

This time, though, Peter tugs at Wade’s, too. He wants to feel his skin on Wade’s. They roll on each other, pulling at their clothes, until they’re naked, pressed together, and kissing again. Wade’s hands in Peter’s hair make him light headed. Another thing to add to the list: he likes his hair played with.

He pushes Wade down on his back and wraps his thighs around Wade’s hips. He’s pleased to find, when he rolls his hips back, that Wade is hard against his ass. He hums and rocks again, slowly, looking down on Wade. He’s absolutely glowing with adoration for the man beneath him.

“Don’t look at me like that, I won’t let you leave,” Wade says. He settles his hands on Peter’s hips, but he makes no attempt to take control.

“Like what?” Peter asks, pushing his hair away from his face. “Like this?” He rolls his hips again, intentionally dragging himself over the length of Wade’s cock. He looks down at Wade through his lashes, breath shallow, making a show of the way his body moves, the way his chest rises and falls.

“Holy shit,” Wade hisses. His hips buck up into Peter, and Peter laughs. Wade is just as easy as Thomas, it seems.

“Let me make it up to you, for yesterday,” Peter says. “I’m not sore anymore.”

Wade just nods.

It’s been a long time since Peter has had to be active in a sexual relationship. With Wade, so far, he’s just sat back and enjoyed the ride. He’s not exactly confident that he knows what he’s doing, but he also has a feeling Wade doesn’t care. Peter could be the worst, and Wade would eat it up.

With that in mind, Peter leans down to kiss Wade again. He doesn’t linger long, though, and starts to move down Wade’s neck, his shoulder, his chest. His hands follow, grounding him to Wade as his lips keep moving downward. The closer he gets, the more nervous he gets. In the little experience he  _ does _ have, he’s never sucked a dick before.

He holds his breath as his nose comes up beside Wade’s cock. He hasn’t gotten a good look at it yet, and now, face to face with it, he’s shocked by how thick it is.  _ That was inside him?  _ No wonder he was so fucking sore. How is he supposed to fit that in his mouth??

“You don’t have to…” he hears Wade say, and damn it, he was hesitating.

“No, I want to. I was just… admiring you,” Peter says. He traces the tip of his nose up the side of it, makes eye contact with Wade, and closes his lips around the head. He watches Wade’s head roll back with a groan, and satisfaction renews Peter’s confidence.

The taste is different from what he thought it would be, but he tries not to let that distract him. He closes his eyes and bobs his head over the tip, doing his best to mind his teeth. He’s not sure he could take it much further without accidentally biting, so he wraps his hand around the base to stroke along.

Maybe Wade will let him practice. The image of Wade shoving his entire cock all the way down Peter’s throat flashes through his mind, and-- it fans the fire in his belly and makes his own dick throb. Fucking hell. He’ll get there.

He only lasts another minute or so before he can’t wait anymore. His jaw is sore anyway, so he pulls off, leaving Wade’s cock wet with spit. The sight of it stirs the need in Peter, and he’s straddling Wade’s hips again as fast as he can.

His ass hasn’t been prepared this time, but he can’t worry about that right now. He  _ wants it _ and that’s all that matters, right? He reaches back to line Wade up, and then he’s pushing it inside.

It  _ hurts _ . It hurts so much more than the last time, and it knocks the breath out of him. He stays still, fully seated with Wade inside him, his hands clenched against Wade’s chest.

“Peter, are you alright?” Wade asks. He cups Peter’s face in a hand and thumbs over his cheek. Peter’s name in Wade’s mouth sends a shock of intimacy and heat straight through Peter’s heart.

“I’m fine,” Peter says, but he’s trembling now. “It’s… it’s really good…” His eyes burn with tears that threaten to fall, but he swallows it down. He flexes his fingers, spreading them out over Wade’s chest as he takes a deep, calming breath.

He moves then, picking himself up just enough to thrust back again. He jolts and does it again, delighting it the way it scrapes inside of him. He gets lost in it, until he feels Wade moving, sitting up, wrapping his arms around him, drowning him in a kiss.

Peter wraps his arms around Wade’s neck, clinging to him, kissing him hard. He rocks his hips, moving in more of a slow grind than anything else. It rubs Peter in all the right ways, and soon it dissolves into that sweet, warm pleasure he loves so much.

He pushes Wade back down on the bed and sits back, leaning back on an arm. He continues to grind his hips, but now wraps a hand around himself. He remembers now that this was supposed to be for Wade, and he needs to get his act together.

Fully on display, he strokes himself along with the roll of his hips. It’s so different from before, the slow build of his climax filling him up like a balloon.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Wade says, and it’s emphasized by the short of his breath. It makes Peter hot, flustered, sets off the butterflies in his stomach. He doesn’t fight it when Wade grabs him and turns him on his back. His thighs fold in toward his chest, and then Wade is driving into him.

The sudden change in pace shocks Peter’s system, leaving him useless in Wade’s hands. The second Wade’s fingers wrap around his cock, he’s cumming. His orgasm ripples through him, hot and slow, washing over him in waves.

Then he’s being kissed again, and he doesn’t care that he can’t breathe. He pulls Wade down on top of him and wraps his legs tight around Wade’s waist.

They stay like that long enough for Peter to exhaust himself. He’s sticky between his legs, and he’s going to fall asleep here again if he doesn’t knock it off.

He touches his forehead to Wade’s, opening his eyes to look up at him. “We can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” Wade asks. He tucks his head under Peter’s chin and lays down on him. It makes it  _ really hard _ for Peter to make his point.

“I guess we can stay for a while…” Peter hums, idly running his fingertips over Wade’s shoulder blades. If he would have told himself a year ago-- hell, a few weeks ago-- that he would be here today, he would never have believed it. But he’s so comfortable now, he can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

“Not to ruin the mood or anything… But you should let me, uh… practice,” Peter says.

“Practice what?” Wade asks. He sounds like he’s nearly asleep.

“Um.” Peter has gotten good at texting dirty words, but not exactly saying them out loud. “You know. Oral.”

Wade huffs a laugh and hugs Peter tighter. “You’re so sweet, I could eat you whole. You want me to teach you how to suck dick, babe?”

“You have a habit of making me regret talking to you,” Peter deadpans. He pries himself out of Wade’s hold and wiggles out from under him. “Do you have a shower? I’m gross.”

“Mhm.” Wade points to an open doorway, and Peter wastes no time leaving him behind.

It takes him a second to figure out the shower, then hot water washes over him. He watches the cum wash away from his skin, and he can’t tell what’s his and what’s Wade’s. He shouldn’t like that as much as he does.

Predictably, he hears Wade come into the bathroom. He keeps his eyes shut as Wade steps in behind him. Thick arms wrap around his waist, and then there’s a chin on his shoulder, and lips pressed against his neck.

He hums and lets Wade hold him for a while, his hands on top of Wade’s. After a while, he says, “You know… I realize that I’m just as guilty at this point, but if we can’t learn to keep our hands to ourselves, we’ll never get anything done, ever again.”

“Maybe it’s time to retire,” Wade says.

“Very funny.” Peter rolls his eyes, and turns in Wade’s arms. He gives Wade one, long, tender kiss, then pushes away as much as Wade’s arms will let him. “Seriously, I have to go home. I’ll meet you later to talk about your friend.”

Wade’s hold goes stiff, and he frowns at Peter. “He’s not my friend,” he says, all serious now.

“Yeah. I know,” Peter says gently. He doesn’t want to set Wade off again. “Wash my back for me before the water gets cold.” He turns around, and Wade doesn’t say anything else as they finish their shower.

A half an hour, some clothes, and several more kisses later (that Peter tries not to think too much about) and Peter is on his way home. He feels more rested than he has in a long time. More relaxed. He would even dare to say at peace.

When he gets home, he finishes his laundry and curls up with his blanket. The last several days have been wild, to say the least. He should probably just shut up and enjoy it, but he can’t do that. He’s going to lie here and think too much about it.

Having sex with Wade and exploring that part of his sexuality is one thing. He’s mostly okay with that. It hasn’t been weird or uncomfortable, and Wade has actually been taking very good care of him.

But that’s the thing. He can’t help feeling that it’s all been a little too… soft. Like a relationship. They just spent the night cuddling, had lazy morning sex, and then showered together. That’s not exactly how friends with benefits works, is it? That’s how boyfriends work. Wade is behaving like his boyfriend, and Peter isn’t exactly mad about it. He actually likes it.

But does he like Wade? He never considered it very seriously before, even as much as Wade pushed. And it’s still too new for him to be able to tell how he feels now. Does he only like Wade because it’s convenient? Or is it more than that?

He doesn’t know. Does it make him a bad person to just go with it until he figures it out? What if he ends up hurting Wade? What if he  _ doesn’t _ hurt Wade? As in, what if he  _ ends up _ with Wade? What would he do about Thomas at that point? He needs to keep making money somehow.

It’s now that Peter realizes he hasn’t heard from Thomas in… over a day? How long had it been? He checks his phone to confirm that, no, there are no new messages. Worry starts to stir in his chest that he might lose Thomas.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Hey, Thomas.  
Sorry for going AWOL for a while, I got caught up in some stuff.  
I hope your day is going well. <3

Peter finishes by snapping a picture of himself, artfully naked, except where the blanket covers his hips. The photo is soft and cute and Peter hopes it makes up for his absence.

He gets a reply right away.

**DoubleTap** :  
Don’t worry, baby boy, I figured you needed some more time alone.  
I’ve been keeping myself plenty busy.  
How are you feeling? Better?

Honestly, Peter had forgotten that he told Thomas he needed a break. He didn’t really get a break, what with Wade and all.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Much better.  
Better than ever.

**DoubleTap** :  
That’s good to hear.  
You look good, too.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Thank you. <3

Peter feels like he needs to make it up to Thomas somehow, but he isn’t really up for it. He’s been well satisfied by Wade in the last twenty-four hours and he’d be faking it if he touched himself right now. Would Thomas be able to tell?

Peter is a really, really bad liar. Pretending falls under the same category.

He chews his lip while he considers his options. Maybe he should just tell Thomas he has to go to work and he’ll talk to him tomorrow. Apologize again. Send him some more cute, lazy pics. It’s better than nothing.

It would be easier if he could film with Wade. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.

The thought of watching himself while Wade fucks him sends a shiver down his spine. It pools in the pit of his stomach, and okay, maybe he’s not as thoroughly satisfied as he thought. He could probably cum again. Damn his super metabolism.

He glances at the time and decides to go for it. He’s still got plenty of time before he needs to get back out of bed.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’ve got to go to work soon, but I want to thank you for being so considerate.  
You’ve been so nice, and I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.

**DoubleTap** :  
Please, I haven’t done anything special.  
You earned it.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Still.

Peter pulls the blanket off himself, and wraps a dry hand around his half hard cock. He’ll make this quick, simple. Just lay back and rub one out the old fashioned way.

He videos most of it, making sure to capture the climax. Honestly, his orgasm is weak. It’s not the best time he’s ever had, but it’s content. He sends it to Thomas and checks the time again. He might as well leave now.

His phone goes off, and wow, he didn’t even think Thomas would respond to that.

**DoubleTap** :  
I love the way your body moves.  
I could watch you all day.

Even if the orgasm itself made Peter kinda sad, at least Thomas liked it. Peter has a feeling Thomas would like anything he sent him, though.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
I’m glad that you like it.  
I had to get one out quick before work. ;)  
Have a good night, though.

**DoubleTap** :  
Don’t worry, I will.  
Don’t have too much fun with your coworker.

Peter raises a brow. His stomach drops slightly, with a feeling that he’s been caught. There’s no way that Thomas could know though. Absolutely no way. The only other person who knows is Wade.

He decides to try to play it off.

**PhotoRealistic** :  
Tell that to him.  
I think being a flirt is engraved in his DNA.  
I’ll be fine, though.  
Good luck with your friend.

**DoubleTap** :  
Thanks.  
It’s getting easier.

Peter wipes himself down with a nearby tshirt and gets out of bed. He should get going. He feels like he hasn’t gotten anything done all day. Maybe it’s because he’s actually been having fun.

He walks through his kitchen, but decides against eating. Wade will probably feed him. Maybe they can go to that taco stand Wade loves. They could sit on at the docks and eat together. That would be nice.

When Peter comes up on their rooftop, he frowns to see that Wade isn’t there. That almost never happens.

He lands and looks around, like Wade might be hiding somewhere, but no. Wade isn’t here.

Peter pulls out his phone and clicks Wade’s messages. Nothing there either.

Worry spikes through his Spidey Sense and makes him feel sick. He types out a quick message before he can start to panic.

**Spider-Man** : Hey Wade, was I supposed to come back to your place or?  
**Spider-Man** : Where are you?

The next forty-five seconds pass in agony. The ping of his phone fills Peter with relief.

**Wade Wilson** : Recon.  
**Wade Wilson** : Sorry, I didn’t think you would be so early.  
**Wade Wilson** : I’ll be there soon.

**Spider-Man** : You’d better be behaving without me.

**Wade Wilson** : Are you going to punish me if I’m not?  
**Wade Wilson** : I encourage you to misbehave while you wait for me.

Peter sucks in a breath. He reads the text again and his face starts to feel hot.

**Spider-Man** : Don’t say that while we’re working.  
**Spider-Man** : There’s a time and a place, and we both know I’m easily distracted.

**Wade Wilson** : Well NOW I know.  
**Wade Wilson** : I’ll try to be less distracting.

**Spider-Man** : I hate you.  
**Spider-Man** : Hurry up. I’m hungry.

**Wade Wilson** : Yes, honey, anything you say.  
**Wade Wilson** : I’ll pick you up for our date at 8:30. <3

Peter groans and sits down against a wall. It’s not a date if they do it all the time. Eating out together is normal. Totally normal and regular and not romantic at all.

He checks the time, and it’s only eight o’clock. What is he supposed to do for thirty minutes by himself?

He opens google and types in  _ Sister Margaret’s Weasel _ .

He filters through the results, trying a few different searches, until he finally comes across something useful. Well, not useful as in information, but useful as in a picture. He didn’t get a good look at the guy in the bar, but now… he looks familiar.

Peter wracks his brain for a few minutes, trying to place the face to a name. Weasel. Weasel. The guy almost looks like someone Peter went to university with, but he doesn’t remember anyone named Weasel.

It’s on the tip of his tongue, when Wade suddenly interrupts him. “How long do I have to stand here before you become distracted by me?”

Peter looks up to see Wade standing there with his arms crossed. He stands up, but looks back down at his phone. “I was trying to do some research on Weasel. I’m pretty sure I went to Empire State with him.” Peter shows Wade the picture he found, like Wade will understand what he’s trying to say.

“Uh. Yeah,” Wade says. He looks dodgy, and Peter narrows his eyes at him.

“What do you know?”

“He went to Empire State,” Wade confirms. He shrugs his shoulders and starts to back away toward the fire escape. “Big deal,” he says, “It’s a big school. It’s a small world.”

Peter opens his mouth to ask more questions, but Wade grabs him by the hand and pulls him in close. He keeps backing up, slowly, holding Peter against him. “I didn’t know you went to college. You’re so smart and amazing.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Peter says, and he’s trying to stay mad, he really is, but Wade’s body on his makes him weak. It’s like a spell he keeps falling under and he can’t help it. He finally gives in. “You’re not off the hook... But let’s go eat.”

“Your wish is my command,” Wade says. 

They head off down the fire escape and toward the food truck. Wade buys them too much food, as always, and heads for a street bench.

Peter stops, though, and says, “Actually, I was thinking more like… the docks. Or something.”

“You want to be alone with me, baby boy?” Wade asks. He’s grinning, and god, that smile makes Peter feel some type of way. Like he wants Wade to eat him alive.

“Where no one can hear you scream,” Peter says. He starts walking. “Tell me what you did today.”

“I did a lot of dead end work, but I found him. I was in the same room as him. I was this close,” Wade pinches his fingers together. “To snapping his neck before you texted me. So… Thanks for the save.”

Heartbreak rips through Peter’s chest, and suddenly he feels cold. He does a pretty good job of ignoring the guilt, usually, but now memories of Gwen flood through him and he’s drowning. Wade said  _ snap _ and now it’s all he can hear. It echoes in his head.

_ Snap. _

_ Snap. _

_ Snap. _

_ Sn _ \-- “Webs, are you alright?”

Peter notices that they’ve stopped walking. He’s trembling, and Wade is reaching for him, but he backs away.

“Don’t touch me right now,” he says. When did he get so out of breath? “I remember who Weasel is.”

“And?” Wade asks. He sounds worried.

“His name was Jack.” Peter swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m pretty sure he was in love with my girlfriend before he lost his mind.”

“Did he hurt her?” Wade asks, frowning now.

“No,” Peter says immediately. He hesitates, thinking  _ I did. I hurt her. _

There’s no way that Wade could have known, but he doesn’t want to look at him right now. Peter starts walking again, faster. “Let’s go. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Wade follows him. He doesn’t say anything else until they reach the docks.

They sit at the edge, with their feet hanging over the water. Peter is still thinking about Gwen, but the hurt is starting to fade to an ache. 

“So…” Wade eventually says. “I have more to tell you, if you’re ready.”

“I’m here,” Peter says. Honestly he could use the distraction more now than ever. He pulls his mask all the way off, since no one is around. 

“I found his headquarters. I found  _ everything _ . Weasel runs the whole operation. I know who drives his trucks. I know where he keeps the kids. All of it, Webs, I found it all.”

“Then why are we sitting here??” Peter asks. He makes to stand up, but Wade catches his wrist and pulls him back down.

“I know. It was hard to walk away, believe me. But if we’re going to do this your way, I have a plan. We have to save the kids before we can get Weasel.”

“That’s… a good idea,” Peter says. He’s not used to Wade being the one with the clear head. “What’s the plan, then?” His appetite is mostly dead now, but he picks up a taco anyway.

“I watched them for a while. There’s a weak spot in their security. Tomorrow, we hit the weak spot, grab the kids and get the hell out of there. Once they’re safe, we go back and start tearing them down.”

“Is it a two man job?” Peter asks. He can’t feel his fingers while they unwrap his taco.

“I could do it alone. I know Weasel like the back of my hand, he’s easy. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out it was him. I trusted him.”

Peter looks up to see Wade’s face. He looks mad, but more like… upset. Betrayed. “He was an information broker. You know you can never trust them.”

“He was my friend,” Wade says. Peter can tell that there’s a complicated history there, so he lets it drop. The urge to comfort Wade starts to overlap his own hurt.

“Hey,” Peter says. He sets his taco down and pushes the bag out of the way so he can scoot closer. “We can’t both be like this at the same time.” He starts to lean in, but Wade beats him to it and pulls him into a kiss.

Peter’s worries melt away the longer that they kiss. It’s soft, closed mouth, warm. He only stops long enough to crack his eyes open, look at Wade, and then kiss him again.

He’s not sure when it happens. He ends up in Wade’s lap several feet away from the edge of the dock. With his knees wrapped snugly around Wade’s hips, and warm, strong arms wrapped around him, Peter suddenly doesn’t care about anything else. All that matters is this moment, the way their mouths fit together, the way Wade tastes, the way Wade feels in his hands.

He’s starting to get hard, but that doesn’t matter either. He only wants to stay just like this. Close. Full of each other. Heart beating too quick and too slow at the same time. Taking comfort in the way their bodies fit together. It’s like time stands still just for them.

The endless kisses make him dizzy and warm. The line between them becomes blurred. He’s not sure where his hands end and Wade’s body begins. He definitely feels Wade’s hands squeezing his ass, though.

Peter’s daze is only interrupted when his phone goes off in his pocket. He doesn’t answer it, but he does stop. He leans his forehead on Wade’s and takes a slow, deep breath. His eyes are still closed, and he’s so comfortable, he never wants to get up. He wraps his arms around Wade’s shoulders and just holds him there.

“You’re glowing,” Wade says. His thumbs rub soothing circles into Peter’s back. “I could look at you all night.”

“Shut up,” Peter says. He can feel his face getting warm, and the butterflies are back in his stomach. “You’re already getting in my pants, you don’t need to keep flattering me.”

“I mean it,” Wade says. He presses a kiss to Peter’s cheek. “Even before I saw your face, you were beautiful. The fact that you’re hot on top of that, I don’t know what to do with you.”

Peter ducks his head into Wade’s neck so Wade can’t look at him anymore. There’s a familiar ring to Wade’s words, and it settles uneasily in Peter’s chest. He tries to brush it off. “You’re one to talk. You’re all hard, tight muscle and thick body.” He sits back up to run his hands over Wade’s arms, eyes following his fingers. “Two of me could fit inside you.”

“Do you like to feel small?” Wade asks, and god, he’s giving Peter that handsome, toothy grin again. It makes Peter feel vulnerable and exposed. He’s still not used to this.

“Maybe,” he says. “I haven’t figured it out yet. But I do like your arms. And your chest.” His hands follow his words, feeling along Wade’s body as he goes. “And your sharp jaw. And your hands.” He finds Wade’s hands and turns them over in his own. He traces them with his fingers, and then… folds them together. He holds both of Wade’s hands, admiring the way their fingers fit together.

“You’re staring,” Wade points out.

“Fuck,” Peter sighs. He drops their hands into his lap, but doesn’t let go. “Can’t you just let me embarrass myself without calling me out? Bad friend, Wade.”

“It’s cute, Peter.”

The way his name comes out of Wade’s mouth shoots straight through his heart and makes it pick up the pace. Wade kisses him again, and he’s overwhelmed with the feeling of being  _ loved.  _ Holy shit, does Wade really love him? Like,  _ love love? _

That’s kind of scary.

When Peter pulls away, he sits back, to put some space between them. He tries to come up with an excuse as to why they should stop, and remembers that his phone went off. God help him if it’s Thomas, but he pulls his phone out anyway.

To Peter’s extreme relief, it’s only Bobbi.

“Shit, it’s Mockingbird and I ignored her. To make out with a guy she hates and thinks is bad for me. That’s you. You’re the guy.”

“I figured,” Wade says. He leans back on his hands, and Peter takes that as a sign that he’s being let go.

Peter climbs off of Wade and sits by the bag of tacos. Probably long cold by now. How long were they fucking around for, anyway? Had to be at least an hour, if the raw way Peter’s lips feel is anything to go by.

“I should go,” he says. He grabs a few of the tacos anyway, and then his mask. “Thanks for dinner.” He stops for a moment, then adds, “I had fun. Started out a little rocky, but ended on a good note. I’ll give your escort service a good google review.”

“Aw, thanks. Business has been slow lately. No one wants to go out with a big, muscley, hunk these days. Except for you, I guess.” Wade winks at him, and Peter groans.

“I’m going to stop saying things to you. Forever. Consider this our last team up. Good bye.” Peter goes to pull his mask on, but Wade is on him in an instant for one more kiss.

“I like hearing about what you like. Makes me feel a little less blind.”

“Blind?” Peter asks.

“You know,” Wade starts. Then shrugs. “I want to be good to you. I need to know what you like if I’m going to do it right.”

“Stop it,” Peter says, because he’s going to start blushing again and he doesn’t know how to take it without being defensive. It stirs around in his gut and makes him want to puke. But like, in a good way.

In a short fit of bravery, he leans closer, to stay quiet next to Wade’s ear. “In that case… yes. I like that you’re bigger than me. I like it when you overwhelm me.”

“Don’t say that to me and then leave,” Wade whines.

Peter just gives Wade a friendly pat on the shoulder with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry. Gotta go.”

He pulls his mask the rest of the way down and swings away.

He gets his phone back out while he’s on his way home.

**Bobbi** : Hello, Peter. How is it going?

**Peter** : Personally? You don’t want to know, but really good. I think.  
**Peter** : Superhero-ly? We hit a major break and I think it’s all going to be over tomorrow.

**Bobbi** : Good to hear.  
**Bobbi** : You need backup?

**Peter** : I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure we’ve got this. Turns out it’s someone Wade knows.

**Bobbi** : Imagine that. A criminal with criminal friends.

**Peter** : It’s not like that.

**Bobbi** : I’d love to hear how you think it’s not like that.

**Peter** : I knew the guy too.  
**Peter** : Wade really isn’t as bad as you think he is. He’s changed a lot.

**Bobbi** : Yeah, I don’t want to hear it.  
**Bobbi** : I’m glad you’re safe.  
**Bobbi** : Talk to you later.

**Peter** : Thanks for checking on me.  
**Peter** : <3 <3 <3 <3

**Bobbi** : Sure.

When Peter gets home, he welcomes the comfort of his bed. He tosses his suit on the floor and wraps himself up in the weighted blanket. It doesn’t really compare to being wrapped up in Wade, but it’ll have to do. Peter definitely needs some space to think about whatever the hell he felt earlier.

If Wade loves him, what is he supposed to do? He doesn’t want to lead him on, but… he still doesn’t know what he wants. It’s too soon for all of this. Maybe he’s wrong anyway, and it’s not love. Maybe Wade is just a really sweet kisser.

Well, that part is definitely true. Peter could easily get lost in Wade’s kisses. Could, has, and  _ did _ get lost in them.

Wow, he doesn’t want to sleep alone.

He closes his eyes and gets ready for a restless night.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is on temporary hiatus while I work on some other things. It might be... a while before it gets updated. Thank you for reading and thank you for your patience.
> 
> If you wanna talk to me I'm on twitter [@br0jangles](https://twitter.com/br0jangles)


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